


Love Will Find A Way

by storyofmyobsessions



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationship, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Beverly Marsh Knows Everything, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Depression, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Endgame Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, F/M, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, I Made Myself Cry, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I felt so bad writing this, I hate myself for this, M/M, Matchmaker Beverly Marsh, Minor Eating Disorder, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Reddie, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, fluff too, happy ending I promise, he just really loves eddie, it's crazy, kind of?, mentions of eating disorders, mike is a godsend, poor eddie is abused, richie is literally so protective, self hatred, they're so in love it's crazy, this is one of my first stories don't kill me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-05-17 01:36:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 45,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14822732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyofmyobsessions/pseuds/storyofmyobsessions
Summary: There is something weird about Eddie's boyfriend, but Richie can't quite figure it out.But when Eddie starts wearing turtlenecks and pants even when it's a million degrees out, he gets a pretty good idea.





	1. "Jeezum Crow, Eds, You Scared Me!"

**Author's Note:**

> massive trigger warning for abuse.

“Happy birthday, Eddie!”

Eddie smiled at everyone around the table, incredibly grateful for all of his wonderful friends. He doesn’t know where he would be without them. Certainly not in college, studying to be a psychologist . One of the best students in his major. Saludatorian of his class, set back by only his best friend of them all, Richie Tozier, who graduated as Valedictorian. 

Now, Richie is standing next to him, raising his glass in the air and grinning at Eddie softly. “To Eds,” he says, turning to look at everyone else in their group. Just as Eddie is about to interrupt with a casual “don’t call me Eds,” Richie is already speaking again. “To our newest addition to 21 club! Wow, Eddie Spaghetti,” he’s smiling at Eddie again, looking directly into his eyes. “I can’t believe you can drink with us now! Since you were such a buzz kill about it. I mean, Ben here isn’t even legal yet and he drinks on a daily basis. Aint that right, Haystack?”

“No,” comes Ben’s small, but firm voice.

“Well, that’s just too bad, my good fella!” Richie is doing another one of his Voices, and Eddie makes direct eye contact with Stan, who looks just about ready to kill Richie. “A lovely chap like you ‘ought to be out and about drinkin’ on the daily! The daily, Haystack!”

“Beep beep, Richie,” says Beverly, rolling her eyes and taking a sip of her drink. “Just finish off the toast already, I want to get this party rolling!”

Richie sighs, looking wounded, but he listens to Bev. He always does. “Fine, fine. To my dearest Eddie Spaghetti, the love of my life,” he wipes a fake tear. “To Eddie!”

  
“To Eddie!” they all repeat, meeting each other’s glasses in the middle of the circle. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


The next time Eddie looks at his watch, he sees it’s already 10:07 PM, and he almost has an asthma attack. As he rushes off of the dancefloor of the bar, he feels someone following him and he turns around. It’s Richie. Eddie turns back around and keeps walking. 

“Where ya off to, Eds?” Richie asks in a casual enough voice, but if Eddie had been looking at him closely he would have seen the worry in his eyes. “You’re leaving pretty early.”

  
Eddie is slipping on his jacket in a hurried fashion, planning on talking to Richie once he’s ready to go, but Richie grabs his wrist and forces Eddie to look at him. “I’ve got to get home,” Eddie explains, yanking his arm out of Richie’s grasp and finishing putting on his jacket. He looks at his watch again. 10:09. “Shit!” 

“Eddie, calm down.” The worry is in Richie’s voice now. “Seriously, what’s going on? Why do you have to be home already?”

  
“I -” Eddie is beyong stressed at this point, and he begins to search for his aspirator. By the time he finds it in his jacket pocket, his breathing is coming out in whistling breaths, and Richie is standing above him, his hands on Eddie’s shoulders. He takes a puff from his aspirator and looks up at Richie, who’s eyes are wide behing his big coke bottle glasses. Wide and brown and _worried,_ those eyes are so worried. “I’m sorry, Rich, but I’ve got to be home, I -” he begins to stumble away from Richie’s grip. Richie grabs onto his waist instead, leaning down closer to Eddie so that Eddie _has_ to look into his eyes. 

“Guh-guys?” Eddie’s eyes get wide and the sound of Bill’s voice, and he tries to get out of Richie’s grip but his hands only tighten. No, no, no. Bill cannot be in on this conversation! He’ll just stutter out his questions, and then get worried and his stutter will only get worse. Eddie doesn’t have the time for that right now. “What’s guh-going on?”

Richie doesn’t look away from Eddie while he responds. “Eds here says he needs to go home.”

“Wuh-what?” Bill looks at Eddie, who simply looks at his feet. “Why? Wuh-what’s wrong, E-E-Eddie?”

“I need to go home,” he says in small voice. Richie lifts his chin in his hands and stares into Eddie’s eyes. It makes Eddie feel inferior, vulnerable. He knows the worst of that feeling is yet to come, because when he gets home he’s in for it. Really in for it. Eddie whimpers. “I don’t wanna go,” he says so quietly that not even Richie, who is bending over so far and so close to Eddie that he can smell the alcohol on Richie’s breath, heard what he said. 

“Eddie, why do you need to go home?”

“Is it J-Juh-Jake again?”

Eddie closes his eyes and nods. “Yeah, I need to go home. I- I promised Jake I would be home by 10, but it’s like fifteen past and it takes me me ten minutes to get there. He,” (He’ll be so mad) he sniffled, opening his eys. It seemed like Richie had only gotten closer. “We were supposed to have a romantic dinner and everything. The food - it’ll be cold now.” He looked at Bill. “I hate cold food.”

“That’s why you look like you’re about to cry?” Richie says, seeming to not believe him. But then he stands up all the way and starts to laugh. “Jeezum crow, Eds, you scared me!” He shakes his head, a small fond smile on his face. “You better get going then, Eddie Spaghetti. Can’t keep your man waiting!”

Eddie doesn’t have the energy to smile, so he just rushes off with a quick “thank you.”

  
  


\----------

  
  


His stomach is filled with dread, and his hands are shaking. He can’t seem to get the key into the hole, and he curses underneath his breath each time he misses. Before he can try for the seventh time, the door swings open and he’s met face to face with his boyfriend. “Eddie,” he greets, and he looks mad. He looks so mad. Eddie might cry. 

“Jake, I’m so sorry.” He feels that maybe this is a good start. And it’s also his 21st birthday, so maybe Jake will go easy on him. “I lost track of time, and then on the way here, there was traffic, and I… I’m so sorry.”

Jake doesn’t say anything at first, and for some reason this scares Eddie even more. He wonders why Jake is being so calm. Instead of worrying too much, Eddie follows his into the kitchen. Jake pours him a glass of water and hands it to him silently. While Eddie is pretending to drink (he’s too stressed to drink right now he’s too stressed to drink right now he’s too stressed to drink right now) Jake eye’s him up and down.

“You wore those shorts?” he asks, turning back to the fridge. 

Eddie looks down at his shorts. They’re his favorite pair, red and short and they make his legs look good. “Yes,” he answers meekly. 

“Hmm,” Jake drinks from his own water glass. He looks at Eddie for a little while, then sets down his now empty glass of water. “So what you’re saying to me, is that a pretty little boy like you,” even in his anger, Jake finds himself looking at Eddie’s thighs, “wore those slutty little shorts on a night out? When, let me see, you probably drank. Then you -” Jake laughs without humor. “You lost track of time? How did you manage to do that, Eddie?”

“I.. I don’t know,” Eddie lies. He does know. He was having fun.

“You don’t know?” At this, Jake looks mad. It’s the first time he’s looked mad at Eddie in almost a week. He steps closer to Eddie and puts his hands on his waist. It’s not nearly as gentle as Richie’s hands had been. He’ll probably have bruises there the next day. A nice, big purple bruise on either side of waist. He whimpers. “Probably too busy getting drunk,” Jake sneers, pushing Eddie backwards until his back is flush against the refridgerator, the handle pushing into his back. He grunts. That’s another bruise to add to the collection of ones he knows he’ll be getting tonight. Jake pushes harder. “Is that true, huh? Were you too busy drinking?”

“No, Jake, I wasn’t,” he cries out, his shoulder blades aching from the handle in his back. “I promise, I wasn’t!”

Jake grins, leaning into Eddie so they’re flush against each other. “You promise?” Eddie gulps, closing his eyes. He knows what’s coming, and he’s really set himself up for it now. “Is that so,” Jake is so close now. So, so close, and Eddie feels like maybe he’ll vomit. Before that happens, Jake is kissing him. Eddie can feel his toungue licking around in his mouth, on the roof, the sides. Everywhere. He feels disgusting. But then Jake starts kissing him normally, and Eddie thinks maybe he’s gotten away this time. It was only a shot, after all, and it was a long time ago. At the beginning of the evening. Maybe him and Jake will just celebrate his birthday and then have a nice, long rest -

“Ah!” Eddie almost screams at the surprise pain in his stomach. 

He punched me, Eddie thinks. He punched me and now I’m really in for it. I was late, and I lied. I deserve this one. “You lied to me, Eddie,” he says, his face still close. With the second punch to the stomach, he begins to slide down the refridgerator door. Jake goes in for another punch, and this one hits him on his left eye, causing him to bite his lip so hard it starts to bleed. A kick to the stomach. By this point Eddie is lying on the ground, crying into his hands. “Eddie,” Jake says, and his voice sounds like a warning. “Get up.”

Eddie doesn’t move, just cries harder and looks up at Jake though wet eyelashes. “I can’t,” he sobs, and he can feel the snot running down his face. “Jake, I said I was sorry -”

Jake is putting his hand underneath Eddie’s arms and lifting him up. Eddie is reminded of how big Jake is. He stands at a solid 6’5, a whole foot taller than Eddie, and he’s wider by nearly a foot on either side. He’s made of pure muscle, and Eddie looks like a child standing next to him. At first glance, he looks sweet and charming, like a big teddy bear, and Eddie knows he’s gotten to close to Jake, because Jake hasn’t been nice to him like that in a long time. _He just loves me_ , Eddie thinks. _He just really loves me, that’s all. He cares._

That’s what Eddie tells himself as he’s practically thrown against the counter, his spine hitting the corner. 

_He just loves me_ , Eddie thinks as he gets punched in the nose.

_He just loves me_ , Eddie thinks as he gets kicked in the stomach, the legs, and even nearly choked at one point when he asked Jake to stop.

_He just loves me_ , Eddie thinks as Jake picks him up and carried him up the stairs to their room.

_He just loves me_ , Eddie thinks as he’s placed gently on the bed, barely aware.

_He just loves me_ , Eddie thinks as he’s handed a glass of water.

_ He just loves me a lot. _


	2. "It Gets Pretty Cold in Here."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The losers come over to chill with Eddie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really short, because I'm still kind of trying to get the story rolling. I apologize.

Eddie is alone the next morning because Jake has work. He wakes up when Jake is leaving so he can make him breakfast while he’s in the shower. Jake eats it quickly, then kisses Eddie’s forehead on his way out.

As soon as he’s gone, Eddie rushes up the stairs to start fixing the bed and get the laundry. He knows he has lots of chores to do today, and he hopes to get time in to ice his eye and nose before Jake gets home. So Eddie turns on the radio and gets to work. He sweeps and mops all the floors vigorously, and vaccumes the carpets. He dust every single shelf in the house and wipes down the counters in the kitchen. He cleans the dishes from this morning, then takes all the old leftovers from the fridge. He finds other things to do to keep himself busy, and his entire body aches, and Eddie thinks him and Jake must have had sex at some point last night, because a lot of the pain is around his ass. Eddie sucks it up and keeps working, because he knows it will be worse tomorrow if the house isn’t spotless. He’s heading into the bathroom now to clean the shower and toilet, when he catches sight of his face for the first time since last night.

He looks like shit if he’s putting it nicely. The bruise on his eye is a deep purple in the middle, and lightens slowly to a gross looking yellow color. Slowly, he takes off his shirt so he can see his stomach and back - the worst of it. He gasps as he sees the bruises on his neck from the short-lived choking session. Eddie slowly runs his fingers a long the blue marks and feels like crying. His entire abdomen is covered in bruises, ranging from a deep purple to a light yellow. He shivers, and is about to put on his shirt again when he hears the phone ringing.

He begins a steady jog, as painful as it is, so he can make it before the phone stops ringing. “Hello, this is Eddie Kaspbrak speaking,” he says smoothly into the line.

“Eddie, it’s Bev,”

“Oh, hey Bev,” he says, and can feel himself smiling. Eddie really likes Beverly. He loves all of his friends, but him and Beverly have gotten really close over the past year. “What’s up?”

“So you know how Ben and I got that new jacuzzi last month?” And oh, Eddie knows this conversation will not be going in his favor. “We figured today would be the perfect day to use it! It’s a little cold outside so it should feel nice. You up for it?”

“Um,” he fakes a cough, feeling terrible as he did so. He left them without a goodbye last night, and now he’s turning them down for a hangout? “I’m actually feeling a little under the weather, so I don’t know.”

“Oh,” he chest aches from more than the bruises at her dissapointed tone. “Is that why you left so early yesterday?”

“Yeah,” he says, feeling his bottom lip. It was scabbed over now from biting it. “Yeah, that’s why. So I’ll see if I’m feeling better another time, how’s that? But you guys can still hang out. Don’t worry about me.”

At this, she laughs. “Yeah, it might be a little difficult to convince Richie not to worry, but I’ll try.” Eddie smiles, comforted by the fact that there are people out there like Richie, who will just care and worry about him no matter what. At the same time he feels bad. He shouldn’t be making people worry about him, he’s not worth that. He never has been.

“Okay, Bev,” he says. “Love you.”

He hangs up before she can reply.

He sighs and runs a hand through his fair, gagging at how greasy it is. He didn’t have time to take a shower last because, well. Because he can’t do anything right. That’s why. He shakes his head and walks upstairs and into the bathroom so he can take a shower. The hot water feels good on his skin and sore body. He lathers up his hair with shampoo and scrubs for a long time, lost in his thoughts.

He knows he shouldn’t have lied to Jake last night. He had already been late, so why did he feel the need to lie, as well? He knew it was just going to get him into more trouble. Another thing Eddie knows, is that he won’t be going anywhere for a couple of days. He upset Jake, and now he’s going to have to make it up to him. He also needs to let the bruise on his face heal, and by then hopefully the ones everywhere else will be toned down to a gross yellow color. He could probably make it look like he fell down the stairs once his black eye is gone.

He starts to rinse out his conditioner, his mind swirling with thoughts. After he’s done, he stands there and lets the hot water run down his body. He sighs in content. For the past two years, a hot shower the morning after a rough night has always been his favorite activity. The one thing he always has to be careful about, is to avoid thinking about the first meeting. The first date. The first hit.

When he thinks about the good things, like the day he first met Jake, his heart aches. He even thought, for one fleeting moment, of leaving Jake. But where would he go? To stay with Richie? Jake knew where all of the losers lived, so staying with any of them wouldn’t be good. He most definitly could not go back to live with his mother. Jake was always manipulative, but his mother loved him, and -

Dang it, Eddie thinks. He reaches forwards and turn the water off. Why can’t he just be happy with what he has? Jake loves and cares for him. Jake provides for him. Of course there a cons to all of the pros to come with him. He needed to deal with what he had, be grateful for everything.

He wraps a towel around his waist and looks at his blurred body in the mirror. Even through the obscured image he could still make out the blotches of blue and purple. He felt like crying again. Instead, he walked out of the bathroom and padded his bare feet into their bedroom. He’s grabbing a pair shorts when he hears the knocking on the front door. Frowning, he slips on the shorts and walks down the stairs, trying not to make a noise.

“Eddie?” He hears a voice call out, and his heart skips a beat. “Eddie, are you there?”

Someone pounded on the door. “Eddie Spaghetti, we know you’re in there!”

Eddie smiled when he realized it was just his friends behind the door. “Yeah, I’m here.” He says quietly, placing a hand on the door. “You guys scared me.”

“Eds, you’re alive!” Richie cried, and Eddie laughed. “I know you gave me a key, but I didn’t want to just let all these randos in your home. Now how’s about you let us in, cause it’s hot out here. Not quite as hot as me, but it’s getting up there -”

“Um,” Eddie looked down at his bare chest, and his stomach knotted in panic. “You just go ahead and let yourself in, Rich. I don’t have my keys on me, or clothes on me, for the matter.”

“Well, that’s how we like you best, Eds,”

As soon as Eddie hears the jingle of keys he rushes up the steps. When he reaches the bedroom the first thing he does in turn the temperature down so he doesn’t look like an idiot. Then he reaches into his closet and pulls out a light blue turtleneck and black leggings. As he begins walking down the stairs he slips on a pair of house shoes with the grip on the bottom. He can hear everyone talking downstairs, and he hesitates before walking into the living room. “Hey,” he says softly, smiling.

“Eddie!” Beverly is the first to run up to him. She wraps her arms around him tightly, whispering in his ear. “How are you feeling? Any better?”

Eddie steps back from her, smiling. “Yeah, a little. I -”

“Shit, Eds,” Richie says out of nowhere. He takes a step towards Eddie. While Beverly had run up to him, Richie had simply stared. He started at his legs, slowly running up his body. He may have thought he was being discreet, but Eddie is always paying attention to Richie. Now, he was walking towards Eddie, staring at him with a concerned look in his eyes. He comes forward slowly. Richie raises a single hand and puts it on Eddie’s cheek. His thumb traces Eddie’s cheek, then moves to under his eyes. His touch is warm and it lingers on Eddie’s skin even after it’s not there. Eddie closes his eyes as Richie tenderly feels his bruise, enjoying the close proximity and the warmth radiating from his body. “What…?”

“What happened to you, Eddie?” Mike says, moving around Stan to get to Eddie. Eddie opens his eyes when Richie removes his hand from his face, and notices that Richie’s entire face is bright red and he’s a couple feet away from Eddie now.

“Oh,” Eddie reaches up and touches his eye gently. “This. Right.” He clears his throat. “You know those kids that live next door, right?” They all nodded. “They were throwing a baseball around yesterday, and the smaller one must have a lot of strength in that tiny body, because it flew over his brothers head and hit me in the eye.”

After asking if he was okay (“Did you ice it?” Ben asked, looking concerned. Eddie nodded even though he hadn’t,), they all shared a few laughs about the encounter. “Yuh-You must b-be having a ruh-rough t-tuh-time, lately, huh, E-Eddie? S-Sick, and then yuh-you got h-hit in thuh-the face with a b-buh-haseball!” They all laughed. Most because Eddie must have really bad luck. Eddie because neither of those things were true.

Richie didn’t laugh at all. “Why are you wearing a turtleneck?” He asks, out of nowhere, and seemingly with no shame. This entire conversation, and he had been staring at Eddie in confusion the entire time. Now he looked at Eddie in the eyes, and something in his eyes was saying, ‘You better not lie to me, Eds. I know you better than everyone else here, so don’t you lie to me. I’ll know.’

Eddie gulped, smiled. “It gets pretty cold in here.”

And that was the end of the discussion.

So the Losers piled onto the couch while Eddie picked out a movie for them all the watch. “Ghostbusters?” He asked, silently hoping it would be alright with everyone. Jake didn’t normally let Eddie get things to entertain himself, but he had also enjoyed the movie so he agreed to buy it when it came out.

They all nodded, not really paying attention. So Eddie put it into the DVD player and hit start. He settled onto the couch in between Richie and Stan. Everyone was silent as the beginnig preview rolled, so Eddie took this as a chance to talk. “Hey, Bev?”

“Yeah?” She paused from messing with Ben’s hair and smiled at him.

“You do know you could have just stayed home and used your jacuzzi, right?” Everyone was looking at his, but Eddie could feel Richie’s eyes boring into the side of his head as they had been for a while now. “I know how excited you’ve been to show us. It would have been no big deal, honestly. You guys used to do stuff without me all the time when were kids and I was always sick.”

“Hmm,” she says, turning back to Ben with a smile. “Ask Richie, it was his idea.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows and turned to Richie, smirking. Richie’s entire face was bright red, but he was still smiling bashfully at Eddie. “I, um. Wanted to see if you were alright,” he says quietly, not looking him in the eye. Then he stands up and and holds his arms out, waving them around goofily. Eddie can’t help but laugh. “It’s your first full day as a twenty one year old, Eddie Spaghetti! Couldn’t just leave you all on your own, now could we?”

“Yeah, Eddie, where’s Jake anyway?” Stan asks, seeming to just notice the absence of the larger man.

“Uh, he’s at work. Movie’s starting!”

As the intro plays Richie takes his seat again, and Eddie shifts his body so he can lay his head on Richie’s shoulder. It felt nice to be with his best friends, especially Richie. Richie had always been able to make him feel better with jokes and stories and even just simple silence like right now. Eddie was able to relax and close his eyes and he laid his head on Richie’s shoulder, feeling Richie’s hands rubbing against his shoulder in a comforting manner. It reminds him of when they were younger and Richie would climb into his bedroom window after a particularly difficult night with his mother and wrap his arms around Eddie and press kisses into his hair while he cried.

“ _It’s alright, Eds,” Richie mumbled, his arms tight around Eddie, their bodies flush with one another._

_“But it’s not!” He cried out, gripping the back of Richie’s shirt as if his life depended on it. “My whole life has been a lie, Richie. How am I supposed to move on from that?”_

_“Hey,” Richie pulled back so that he could look into Eddie’s eyes. He reached forwards and gently wiped a tear from under his eye. “Your whole life? Is that really how you feel?”_

_Eddie realizes that he’s making a point. His whole life may not have been a lie; just most of it. He shook his head. “No, ‘Chee. It’s just - my mother has been lying straight to my face for my whole life. I don’t - I don’t know how I’m supposed to take that.”_

_“Well it’s okay to be upset, you know that? What she did was awful. You completely have the right to ignore her for a month and then curse her out like you own the place. Because you do, Eddie Spaghetti. Own the place. She has no right to own the nicest, most brave, and definitely the cutest boy in the entire town.”_

_Eddie sniffled. Smiled. “Thanks, Richie. You always know how to make me feel better.”_

_“And that’s no lie, Eds. No matter what, you will always have me. The rest of the losers, too, but mostly me.”_

_Eddie laughed and hugged Richie again. “Thank you,” he whispered into Richie’s neck, allowing his eyes to close and simply enjoy being surrounded by someone he loved._

_“Ay, it’s no problehm, my good suh Eddie Spaghetti!” Richie said in one of his awful Voices. Then he became serious again, smiling softly at Eddie’s slightly annoyed face. He kissed Eddie’s forehead, and Eddie let him, not once complaining about how much germs can spread through mouths, and that he has no idea where the hell Richie’s mouth is. Becasue he’s not delicate - that was just another one of his mothers lies.”Do you want me to stay here tonight?”_

_Eddie looked up at Richie and shook his head. “Can… can I just stay at your place? I don’t really want to be here right now. It… I just.”_

_Richie put his hand under Eddie’s chin and lifted it up so Eddie was looking at him.”It’s alright, Eds. I get it. That’s kind of why I come here all the time. Well, that and to see your cute little face -” Eddie punched his arm with no real intention to hurt him. “Well, come on then, Spaghetti Man, what are we waiting for?”_

_Eddie stood up and grabbed some slip on shoes then turned to Richie. “I’m ready.”_

_Richie raised his eyebrows. “No pajamas? Mine will just hang off of you and swallow you whole, Eds.”_

_Eddie shook his head. He would rather be swallowed by Richie’s clothes, but he would never admit that._

_Richie just shrugged and let it go. He would rather Eddie be swallowed by his clothes, too, but he would never admit that._

_As they were climbing out of the window, Richie grinned. “Hey, does this mean I can’t talk to Mrs. K either? Because we were kind of planning on meeting up Thursday night -”_

_This time when Eddie punched him, he wouldn’t really have minded hurting him._

“You all right, Spaghetti Man?” Richie tore him out of his own head, squeezing him around the shoulder. “You looked a little out of it.”

Eddie turned to look up at Richie. At his wild, unruly hair and big, brown eyes and the biggest pair of glasses Eddie has ever seen. Eddie doesn’t think he’s seen anyone quite as beautiful. He had freckled spewed all across his cheeks and nose. His lips were the perfect shade of red from chewing on them too much, lips that were plump and inviting. A disaster, maybe. But a beautiful one.

Eddie nods, turning his gaze back to the TV. “Yeah. I’m good, Rich. Just glad you guys came.”

“Well, Eds, if you’re glad then I’m glad.”


	3. "I'm Here to Have a Serious Conversation, Dipshit."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Bev have a serious conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a fair warning, this may be terrible.

A week had passed since the losers all went to Eddie’s house to spend some time with the sick boy, and Richie hadn’t done anything since.

He slept in until noon consistently, and then watched crappy TV shows for the rest of the day. He’d called in to check up on Eddie a couple of times, seeing if everything was going alright and if he was feeling any better. It seemed to Richie that everytime he called, the more anxious Eddie had sounded. He simply let it go for now, though, because he would be able to have a better conversation with him in person anyways.

Richie, no matter how many times he would deny it, tended to worry about Eddie more than anything else he did. He couldn’t help it most of the time - it was just his natural instinct to worry about his best friend. He knew Eddie wasn’t weak. In fact, he was anything but weak. But Eddie had been working his way into Richie’s heart from day one, with his big brown doe eyes and sweet little freckles and feisty attitude. He cared about Eddie, therefore he worried.

The one day that week that Richie didn’t wake up at noon, he woke up two hours earlier due to the home phone ringing like mad. He jumped straight up at the noise coming from beside him, his heart racing and his hair in a big ball of naughts. When he realized it was just the phone, he reached over to put on his glasses and answered the phone.

It had been the one and only Beverly Marsh. She wanted to meet him at their local coffee shop for breakfast. Richie whined and groaned about being woken up so early, but Bev had sounded so serious that he agreed anyways. He put on shorts and some random band tee from a concert he went to with Eddie two years ago.

And that was how he ended up sitting in an empty cafe across from Beverly Marsh at 10:30 on a Friday. As much as he had whined about it, he didn’t really mind too much because Beverly was a great friend.

“You and Eddie seemed touchy while watching the movie, hm?”

  
Richie blinks. “Well, well, well Miss Marsh, you sure are one to get straight to the point aren’t you? How unfortunate for Ben, he sure does seem to be one for the foreplay.”

  
“Beep beep,” she groans. “I’m here to have a serious conversation, dipshit.”

“My bad, Bev. I had absolutely no idea,” he grins slyly at her, a look of fake innocence upon his features. “Okay, serious.” He straighten up in his seat and puts on a serious face. “What have we gathered here today to talk about, Miss Marsh?”

Beverly laughs despite herself. She had just opened her mouth when the waitress came over to take their orders. As soon as she was out of earshot, Bev started right up again. “So. You and Eddie?”

Richie shakes his head, and looks sadly at Bev. “He’s got a boyfriend, Red. We’ve been over this.”

  
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she waves her hand around in a dismissive manner. “I know all that stuff. ‘ _Oh, Bev, I should have made my move when we were teenagers. Now he’s settled and would never go for a gross turd like me!’_ See, isn’t that what you were going to say?”

“That is not what I sound like. I must say, it’s getting closer though. You’ve been practicing, yes?”

Beverly glares at him. “Stop trying to change the subject, Richie.”

“Okay, okay, fine. Yeah, I’m in love with Eddie. Okay, so what? I have been for years, Bev. It’s nothing new, and you know that.” This is not what Richie thought he would be here for. He’s regretting coming now. “What does this have to do with anything? It’s old news. To you, anyway.”

“What does it have to do with anything? Are you serious right now, Richie?” The waitress brings the food, and Beverly smiles sweetly at her. She drops the smile and glares at Richie. “Seriously, Richie. When we went over there you were caressing his cheek and standing really close to him, and then cuddling on the couch. I think it has something do with everything.”

  
“My God, Bev,” Richie rolls his eyes and made to leave. “I can’t believe you dragged me here to lecture me about this. You -” Richie feels like he might scream. “You know how sensitive this makes me feel, Beverly. I would rather not talk about it.”

“Richie, wait.”

“No, Bev. This is serious, okay? Yeah, okay, I’ve been in love with him since we were fifteen. It’s not like I haven’t tried to change that, and you know that. I dated someone for two years!”

  
“Yeah, and then you blew up in her face and told her you were in love with your best friend.” She raises her eyebrows. “Just sit down, Rich. That’s not what I want to talk about.”

“Hm,” Richie doesn’t sit down. “What did you want to talk about, then?”

At this, she looks down and seems to think for a second. When she looks up, Richie is once again reminded of how beautiful she really is. She looks at him with her big blue eyes and her face is framed with bright red hair. Ben was a lucky guy, and so was Richie. Besides Eddie, Bev was the one person he could tell anything. “It’s about Eddie,” she almost whispers.

“I thought this wasn’t what you wanted to talk about,” Richie scoffs.

“No, no. Richie, please.” She looks so upset and Richie doesn’t know if he could really walk out on her. “Sit. Please.”

Richie sighs and sits down across from Beverly. “This better be good.”

In that moment, Richie swears that if she mentions him and Eddie one more time he’s going to bolt. He told her when they were fifteen - he told her how he felt. When Eddie started to date, Richie told her not to mention it to Richie because he wouldn’t be able to handle thinking about it. If Beverly was willing to betray his trust like this, then he would do what he always did when he was mad at someone. The silence treatment.

“I’m worried about him, Rich.”

  
And that… was not was Richie had been expecting. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think he’s happy.”

“Listen, Bev, I,” he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not following.”

“With Jake, I mean.” She looks around and sighs, leaning forwards on her elbows. “I don’t know how to say this really. I’m worried about him. He’s been acting really weird lately, but I’m scared to talk to him about him about it. Have you noticed anything off with him lately?”

  
“I, uh,” he shakes his head again. “Yeah, I mean. A little? He’s been pretty quiet.”

  
“ _Really_ quiet,” she corrects. “He doesn’t even get mad at you for calling him weird names all the time. It’s like he’s lost all his fight.”

Richie raises his head and looks into Bev’s eyes. His eyes are wide behind his glasses. “You don’t think he’s depressed, do you?”

“I’m not sure, Rich,” she shakes her head. “I’m worried about him, though.”

Richie laughs shakily and with no real humor. “I though Jake was just a little bit protective. I know if I was able to have Eddie like that, I would want to spend as much time as possible with him, you know? Just letting him know how much I loved him. I think he deserves that.” Richie realizes he was talking out loud and straight from his heart. He looked away from Bev. “Now that you point it out, though… I can definitely see what you mean. He keeps staying at home, and then when he does come out with us it’s like he’s not fully with us. It’s weird. It’s…” he looks back to Beverly, his eyes sad and, once again, full of worry. “It’s almost like he’s avoiding us.”

“I think maybe Jake is making him,” Bev blurts, but she doesn’t take it back. “Avoid us, I mean.” She takes a sip of her drink. “Because at first he was always fine when he was out with us, but it’s like when he has to leave he looks all fidgety and nervous. But now, he’s like through the whole hangout session. And then he avoids us completely for days.”

  
“Yeah,” Richie nods, contemplating in his head. “Yeah, I’ve noticed that. That’s why I wanted to go over to his with the group, to make sure he was alright. I mean, I couldn’t think of any reason why he wouldn’t be. I was just worried.” He looks at her guiltily. “I worry about him a lot. Too much.”

“You can never worry about someone too much,” she reaches across the table to take his hand in hers. “Especially when you them. You can’t help but worry, and it’s worse when you can tell they’re hiding something. So don’t worry.” She pauses. “About the worrying. Don’t worry about the worrying.”

  
“Yeah. But, Bev,” he sighs. “Why do I still love him? I… I don’t _want_ to love him anymore. It’s been years, Red, and it’s obvious he’s never going to return the feelings. So why do I still feel this way?”

She smiles at him, her expression fill with some kind of understanding. “I think it means something,” she pauses to take a drink, and cuts Richie off before he can speak. “No. Listen to me. I had feelings for Ben for a long, long time before anything happened. Now look where we are!”

  
“Yeah, but you too flirted all the time. And he never dated.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Like you don’t flirt with Eddie any chance possible.”

  
“And he gets annoyed! This has absolutely no relations with you and Ben, Bev. Honestly.”

  
“Uh, honestly, it does.”

  
“He doesn’t even know I’m bi.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “It’s obvious. I’ve had Ben and Bill ask me numbers of times if you were into guys. Didn’t answer, of course,” she adds at Richie’s panicked expression. “But it’s obvious. Anyways, my point. Where was I?”

  
“Almost done, I hope.”

  
“Yes! You still have feelings for Eddie. Okay, what I’m trying to say is that it has to mean something if you still feel that way after all these years. You’ve been waiting for him, Rich. And, I mean, seriously. Come on. You’ve only kissed the kid once in a game of truth or dare, and that was for literally three seconds.”

  
“Still the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

  
“Ha!” She points a finger at him triumphantly. “And it was only a peck! If that little thing meant more to you than any other kiss you’ve ever had, and you’ve kissed a lot of people, then that _has_ to mean something. I don’t think you would still have feelings for him if you weren’t meant to be. Not after everything you guys have been through.”

Richie swirls the straw in his soda, thinking. “So what should I do, then? For now, anyway.”

  
Beverly thinks for a second. “You said earlier that if you were together you would show how much he was loved. I don’t think you necessarily have to be _together_ together for that.”

“Jesus, Red,” Richie almost chokes. He looks at her incredulously. “Yeah, sure, Bev. Let me just pin him to a wall and kiss him like he’s never been kissed before. Or, I don’t know, lay him down on a bed and kiss him all over, naming every single thing I love about him. Sounds good, Bev. We definitely don’t have to be _together_ together to do that.”

  
“Is that really what you meant by showing how much you love him?” Richie just stares at her. “I don’t know wether that’s cute or disgusting. Both, in a way I guess. When it finally happens, can I watch?”

“Yeah, sure.”

  
“Really?”

  
“No, Bev. Why would you even want to watch that?”

  
She shrugs. “This is way off topic.” She ran a hand through her long, bright red locks. “What I’m trying to say is that you should show him how much you love him without any lip to skin or other lip contact, if possible. I know that might be hard for you, because I have to sit there and watch you undress him with your eyes half the time. But try, yeah? I think it would be nice. For him, and for you.”

As much as Richie would hate to admit it, it’s not the worst idea she’s ever had. “What would we do, then?”  
“I don’t know, Rich.” She looks at him meaningfully. “Take him out to dinner at his favorite restaurant, go see a movie. Play some board games. Just spend some quality time with him. You know him better than all of us, Richie. Just promise no mom jokes?”

“Now, Miss Marsh,” he looks at her seriously. “You know that it a promise I cannot make.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this was okay? I'm about to go to sleep, and I just really wanted to get this chapter up tonight. if I edit it sometime after I wake up, that's probably because it has actually been proofread. let me know how you think :)
> 
> also, I hope it's not too frustrating that they don't REALLY dive into what might be going on with Eddie. they are worried, it's just that what is actually going on isn't the first thing they would think of.


	4. "I'm Fine."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Ben talk. kind of. it's difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry I haven't uploaded in a while, I've been a little busy. hopefully this chapter is okay? let me know what you think :)

 

“Hey Eddie. Sorry, did I wake you?” 

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I should be waking up by now.” Eddie sits up in bed and runs a hand through his hair. He looks over at Jake’s sleeping form beside him in the bed.  “What’s up?"

  
“You want to go to lunch?” Ben asks, and Eddie furrows his brow. That was random. “Just us. It’s been a while since we’ve talked, you know? Just the two of us.”

  
Eddie is still staring at Jake, willing him to wake up. “Yeah, Ben. I mean, that sounds nice. What time were you thinking?”

“One, maybe? If that works for you.” Eddie can hear shuffling on the other side of the line. He looks at his watch. 10:00. “Hey, sorry, Eddie, but I’ve got to go. Something came up with Bev. But let me know if you can’t come, alright? Otherwise I’ll be waiting in that pizza place downtown all by myself.”

“Okay,” Eddie says in an unusually quiet voice. He coughs. “Yeah. I should be there. I’ll let you know, though.”

  
“Bye, Eddie.”

Eddie places the phone down and looks over at Jake again. Still asleep. He sighs. 

He stands up and goes downstairs to start on breakfast. He mixes the pancake batter in a bowl, then turns on the stove and sprays the frying pan. As he’s cooking he gets lost in his thoughts.

Jake had work yesterday, so there’s a good chance that he’ll be sleeping in very late today. Surely not until one, right? He’d slept until then before. There were lots of things Eddie could absolutely not do in this situation. 1) go without asking Jake. He’d done it before, leaving Jake a note on the bed. He hadn’t left the house for a week afterwards. 2) wake Jake up. The man wasn’t very happy in the mornings anyway, but if he was woken up for no other reason than for Eddie ask him permission to do something? That benefited Eddie himself?

Eddie shivered just thinking about what would come afterwards if he ever did that. Jake was a man of sleep. When he wasn’t working, he usually spent his time sleeping or punishing Eddie for something. 

Eddie continued making pancakes, humming to himself as he did so. Once he was finished, he put them out on a plate for when Jake woke up. He washes the dishes, cleans the stove, and then goes back upstairs to see if Jake is awake yet. 

He’s not.

Eddie curses underneath his breath. He doesn’t want to waste time in the shower and picking out clothes for nothing. He paces for a few minutes before shaking his head and deciding to shower anyway. He washes his hair quickly and rinses his body off. When he gets out of the shower he doesn’t make any extra effort to look nice, just slips on a pair of jeans (the bruise on his thigh still being heavily prominent) and one of Jake’s shirts. Eddie was practically swimming in it, but Jake loved when Eddie wore his clothes in public. He knows he has a better chance of getting out of the house if he wears it. When he’s done getting dressed, he goes downstairs to sit at the table and wait for Jake to get up.

He doesn’t get up until noon, and Eddie prays to a God he doesn’t believe him and thanks Him for waking Jake up. “Hey, babe,” Eddie says, getting up to greet Jake. He stands on his tiptoes, but Jake still has to lean down for Eddie to kiss him on the cheek. “How did you sleep?”  
He shrugs, moving forward to the kitchen. “Fine.”  
“I made pancakes,” Eddie says, trying to get Jake’s attention. He just grunts and keeps moving. He sits down at the table where Eddie had already put out a plate for him. When he shovels the food in his mouth, Eddie has to look away before he vomits. He will never understand why Jake eats like that. He waits until Jake is finished eating to ask him. “Jake?”  
“Yeah,” he says dismissively. 

“I, um.” He coughs and messes with the end of the shirt. Eddie likes big clothes, but Jake’s were just too big. It almost hit his knees. “One of my friends invited me to lunch.”  
At this, Jake actually looks at him full on for the first time that morning. He scans the shirt and smirks at how big it is on Eddie. He leans back against the counter and gestures Eddie forwards. When Eddie is close enough, he pulls Eddie’s back to his chest and rests his chin on the top of his head. “What’s the occasion?”  
Eddie is suddenly glad that he’s not face-to-face with Jake, because he wrinkles his nose at the smell of his morning breath, and Jake absolutely hates when he does that. “Just to catch up. We haven't really talked in a while.”

“Hm,” Jake grabs at Eddie’s hands and wraps them in his own, spinning Eddie around so he could look at him. He kisses Eddie’s forehead. “I guess you can go. Only because you’ve been very good this past week, after the birthday incident. Don’t you think so, Eddie?” Eddie nods obediently, knowing better than to disagree with him. “I think it will be okay. What time?”

  
“One,” Eddie says quietly. 

Jake looks at the clock. It’s 10:26. “I need to talk to you about something before you leave, then.”

  
Eddie feels his breath hitch. Hadn’t Jake just said he’d been good recently? What could this possibly be about? Jake puts his hand on the small of Eddie’s back and leads his to the living room. He sits down on the edge of the couch and pats his lap. Eddie obediently sits sideways in his lap so his back is resting against the arm of the chair. 

“I have another business trip this weekend,” Jake says, and he rubs Eddie’s back as he says it. “I’ll be leaving Friday night and I won’t be back until Monday.”

  
Eddie frowns slightly. “I’m not going with you?”

  
“No, sweets,” he shakes his head. “Not this time.”

Eddie is not stupid. He knows that Jake’s job as a salesman for computers does not take as many business trips as Jake apparently goes on. When he doesn’t take Eddie with him, that usually means he’s not  _ really  _ going on a business trip. Once, when Eddie was left home alone he called Jake to ask him what he wanted for his welcoming home dinner. Jake hadn’t answered, so Eddie called one of the workers that was supposedly going on the business trip with him. That was the time Eddie was informed that there was no business trip and that Jake had been coming in to work everyday. Eddie wasn’t sure, but he had a pretty good idea about where Jake was actually going on these ‘business trips’. 

Eddie nods sadly and looks away from Jake. Jake sighs and continues rubbing his back. “No parties, okay?” Jake has known Eddie for years, and knows that he has never been one for big parties. Knows that he only has six friends. For some reason, he tells Eddie this every time he leaves. “Not even with those loser friends of yours.” Eddie nods obediently. “And keep the house clean while I’m out, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie mutters, smiling shyly at Jake. When Jake starts to stand, Eddie slides off of his lap and steps away from him. He suddenly feels like crying. He knows it would be good to confront Jake about the cheating, but he also knows that Jake will just deny it. What proof does he really have? And Jake is never happy when Eddie makes assumptions, so it wouldn’t end well for anyone. “Friday,” Eddie says. “Is that two days from now?”

  
Jake laughs, shakes his head at Eddie. “Really? Don’t be stupid, Eddie. It’s tomorrow.” He looks genuinely offended by Eddie’s question, looking at him like he had just asked what two plus two was.

Eddie shrinks back into his shell. “Sorry,” he says, looking away. “I’ll go clean the table.”

Eddie does just that. He rinses off both of their plates, and puts them away in the sink to wash later while Jake watches TV in the living room. When he looks at the clock her sees that it’s just past 11, so he heads into the living room to sit on the couch with Jake and pretend to be interested in football. Jake doesn’t even look up at Eddie when he enters the room, so Eddie sits on the opposite side of the couch just to give him room. 

Hours pass, and Eddie stares at the TV with worry lines in his forehead every time a player gets hurt. One time, it shows an up close of a dislocated knee, and Eddie nearly vomits. It’s only 12:30, but it takes five minutes to get to the pizza place and he guesses he can wait a little while and at least get them a table. So he slips on his shoes and says goodbye to Jake. 

The drive to the pizza shop is spent holding back tears. At this point, Eddie doesn’t even know why.

  
  
  


Eddie had been waiting for maybe ten minutes when Ben showed up. He slid into the booth seat across from Eddie, grinning. “Hey, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles back. Ben has always had a comforting presence, and Eddie appreciates how he already feels better and all Ben has done is greet him. “Hey, Ben.”

“How are you?” Ben asks, opening up his menu and looking at Eddie meaningfully. 

There are two ways he can answer this. He can lie, say he’s fine, get it over with. He could also tell him the truth. ‘Hey, yeah. I’m almost positive my boyfriend is cheating on me. And last week I didn’t really get hit with a baseball in the face.’ Instead, he shrugs. “I’m mostly fine. How are you?”

“Mostly?” Ben raises his eyebrows. “Why is that?”

Eddie shifts uncomfortably. “How are you?” He asks again, pretending he hadn’t heard Ben speak

Ben sighs, sets down the menu, and looks at Eddie very seriously in the eyes. “We’re here to talk about you, Eddie. I’m worried about you. We all are.”

  
Furrowing his eyebrows, Eddie looks down at his drink. “Why?” 

“We never see you anymore,” Ben says, smiling sweetly at the waitress. “We’re worried.”

“You…” Eddie looks around, desperate for a way out. Are they onto him? What if they know he’s been lying about Jake? What if they make him break up with him? That can’t happen. Jake would kill him. He wants advice, but he doesn’t want people to know about anything. He can’t have people knowing, it would ruin everything he had. “You don’t have to worry.”

  
The waitress comes to take their order, but Eddie simply gets a glass of water. He’s not hungry. Or maybe that’s just what he’s telling himself. “No food?” Ben raises an eyebrow and sighs. “You have been looking skinny lately. Like, skinnier than usual.”

  
_“You look fat, Eddie,” Jake says, looking Eddie up and down and shaking his head. “You need to lose weight. Just go to bed, alright? I don’t want you to eat until tomorrow at lunch. You’re going on a diet.”_ _  
_ “I’m fine,” Eddie insists, his stomach tightening around every syllable. Why was Ben asking him these things? He was fine!

“Eddie,” Ben says softly, reaching across the table to take Eddie’s hand in his gently. Eddie yanks his hand back, tears threatening to spill. “Do you have an eating disorder?”

  
“Oh my God,” Eddie feels like he’s being attacked, questions being thrown at him every other sentence. Questions he doesn't know the answer to. Questions he can’t - won’t - answer. He touches his stomach self consciously, wondering. _Do I really look skinny? No, that’s impossibly. Jake is still restricting my meals. Skip two, eat one. Skip two, eat one. If I looked skinny, Jake wouldn’t be making me do that._ “No, Ben.” 

The tone of his voice is harsher than he intended it to be, and Ben winced slightly. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Eddie. I’m just worried, is all. We all are. Can you tell me what’s going on with you?”

“There’s nothing going  _ on  _ with me, Ben!” Eddie stands up and slips out of the booth. “I don’t know why you’re worried about me, because I’m fine. Okay? God,” Eddie runs a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but Ben. He knows if he looks at him, he’ll sit back down because the guy holds Eddie in his palm, practically. Eddie’s always has a soft spot for Ben. “This conversation is over. I’m leaving.”

  
And Eddie does just that, ignoring the calls from behind him. 

He hears Ben’s head hit the table and a loud sigh. 


	5. "Cute, Cute, Cute, Eddie Spaghetti."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie spend some much needed alone time together. Richie discovers something.

“I want to change up your diet,” is what Jake says as he places a bowl of oatmeal in front of him. Eddie looks up at him through his eyelashes. “Instead of eating dinner everyday, I want to try breakfast. Then you’re still burning calories throughout the day, right?”

  
“Right,” Eddie nods, sticking his spoon tentatively in the bowl and stirring it around for a second. 

Jake is drying his hands on a towel as he smiles at Eddie from across the room. “I’m leaving in five minutes,” he says, looking at Eddie meaningfully. Eddie nods again, standing up to go retrieve Jake’s bag from upstairs for him like he always does. When Eddie returns, he’s struggling to pull the gigantic suitcase behind his tiny body. He leaves it next to the door and waits for Jake. “Good boy,” Jake says with a sinister smirk. “Now, remember the rules, yes?” Eddie nods. No parties, no friends, no cigarettes. The last one came from about a year ago when Eddie had been with Richie while he’s been smoking. Jake had seen them and gone ballistic. Eddie’s hand smoothly touches his left hip bone, where the scar Jake had later put there with a cigar of his very own was. Now, Jake rests a hand gently on Eddie’s cheek, rubbing it. “Ice that,” he says. Eddie nods.

When Eddie had gotten home yesterday, Jake hadn’t been in a good mood. Eddie had forgotten to wash the dishes. His abs were still sore from the gut punch, and his cheek was still red from the slap. 

Eddie felt a sort of giddy relief at watching Jake’s car pull out of the driveway that morning, smiling until it was out of sight. He would have to the whole weekend to himself to do whatever he wanted. He could watch what  _ he  _ wanted to watch on TV. He could play his music too loud. He could - 

He could answer the phone that was now ringing. He walks to the living room to pick up the blue phone, putting it to his ear. “Hello, this is Eddie Kaspbrak speaking.”

  
“Yes, hello, this is the president of the United States calling to say you will be arrested from your house in approximately one hour. Hide the weapons, hide the drugs.”

Eddie smiles and shifts his footing so he can have better access to the phone. “That was by far the worst voice I think you’ve ever done, Richie.” He looks over at the door out of habit, his stomach jolting a small noise from the kitchen.  _ Jake’s not even home,  _ he tells himself.  _ No need to hype yourself up over nothing like you always do.  _

“Oh, come on!” Eddie can hear Richie smiling through the phone. “You know they’re good, Eds. Admit it.”

  
“I’ll admit they’re better than when we were kids. Still not very good, though.” Then, as an afterthought, “And don’t call me Eds.”

  
“Alright, alright,” Richie sighs over the phone, his voice very soft and comforting when he speaks again. “Is Jake still there?”

“No, he just left.”

  
“Great!” Richie exclaims, and Eddie winces. Richie must be able to detect this, because he’s correcting himself immediately. “I mean, not great that he’s gone, obviously. Well, actually, yes, because I wouldn’t be able to even come over if he _was_ there, so. I mean, sorry you won’t see him for a few days? I’m just excited to see you.”

  
Eddie laughs at Richie’s endearing rambling. “It’s alright, Rich,” he says in a soft voice - nowadays, he’s always talking in a soft voice. “I know what you mean.”

“You always understand me, Eddie Spaghetti. How did I get so lucky?”

“Don’t call me that, either. It’s worse.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to call you, then? Eddie?” 

“Preferably.”  _ Call me Eds, Richie. Or even Eddie Spaghetti. I love it when you call me that, even though I tell you not to. But for the love of God, please don’t call me Eddie. That’s what Jake calls me.  _

“You kill me, Eds.” Eddie’s heart soars at the nickname. “Anyways, I’ll be over in thirty. We can just hang out, alright? I feel like we haven’t had a sleepover in ages, so I’m excited.”

  
“That’s because we’re grown men, Richie. Grown men usually don’t have sleepovers.”

“You’re a grown man?” Richie laughs. “Could’ve fooled me.”

  
“Shut up and get over here, Richard.”

Richie does just that. 

 

Richie is bouncing around in Eddie’s kitchen, extra hyper. He thinks it’s most likely because he gets to spend the entire weekend with Eddie. How could he not be excited about that? 

When Eddie had opened the door to let him in, he looked extremely cute and small in his sweatshirt and sweatpants. He had eyed the four grocery bags full of candy in Richie’s hands skeptical, but had stepped back to let him in. 

Now, two hours later, Richie had already eaten two bags of candy and was extremely hyper. He was making jokes, doing voices, and poking fun at Eddie. They hadn’t done much yet except lay on the couch and talk. He’s been pleased so far to see that Eddie was in a good mood, and some sick part of him likes to think that maybe it’s because Jake is gone. Just maybe. 

“Richie?” Eddie calls from the living room, and Richie runs to him like an eager-to-please puppy, his eyes wide behind his glasses and a huge grin. He finds Eddie standing with his hands on his hips, looking anywhere but at Richie. “Can come get this blanket for me?”

The blanket he’s asking about is big, purple, fuzzy, and in a high cabinet next to the couch. Richie’s grin gets impossibly wider as he stalks over to Eddie happily. “Shit, Eds,” he places a hand on his chest, mocking surprise. “You couldn’t reach that? I thought you were taller taller than - you know what, fuck, I just remembered,” he leans down and boops Eddie on the nose. “You’re a fucking midget.” He whispers it like it’s a secret before easily grabbing the blanket and handing it to Eddie, not missing the way he’s self consciously crossed his arms at his chest and avoiding Richie’s eyes. Immediately, Richie’s heart swells, because he didn’t mean to offend Eddie. He loves Eddie’s height - he thinks it’s perfect. He and Eddie both know that Richie only makes fun of the things he adores about people. Especially Eddie, because Richie loves and adores everything about Eddie. “Hey, Eds,” he places a hand under Eddie’s chin and lifts it so he can look at Eddie properly. He smiles softly. “You know I’m joking, right?  
And Eddie nods, but it looks rehearsed. Almost like he’s not really hearing Richie.

“I love your height. It’s perfect. Hey,” Eddie looks at him this time. “You’re perfect.”

At this, Eddie smiles. This time his nod looks genuine. “Thank you,” he says in his quiet, soft voice, and Richie’s heart melts. “For the blanket.”

“Glad I could be of your assistance, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie says smoothly, but he’s still worried. After his talk with Beverly, he’s been extra aware of everything that Eddie does. He’s come to realize Eddie really  _ has  _ been acting weird. If it were a year or two ago, Eddie would have kicked him in the shin and told him to ‘fuck off, just because you’re practically a giraffe doesn’t mean I’m short, you dickhead.’ Now, Eddie barely ever corrects him on his nicknames, and when Richie jokes with him, he just looks sad. Richie feels awful for not noticing the extent of the problem sooner. 

Richie throws an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and smiles at him, determined to bring his now dampered mood up. “You got a radio, Eds?” Eddie nods, and Richie claps him on the shoulder. “Fantastic.  _ We, _ ” he gestures wildly between them, “are going to listen to some relaxing music and gossip.”

  
“Gossip?” Eddie looks up at him in confusion. “About what?”

Richie looks at Eddie seriously. “Stenbrough, of course.”

  
Eddie just furrows his eyebrows.

“You’re kidding?” Eddie shakes his head, and Richie gasps loudly. “You’re telling me you haven’t noticed the budding romance between Bill and Stan?”

Eddie gapes at him. “You’re being serious? I knew it! Stan’s been into Bill since high school.”

  
“Well, if you go get that radio, we talk all about the date I’m pretty sure they went on last night.”  


 

“Right, so,” Richie pops another chip on his mouth and grins over at Eddie, who is sitting on the couch. Richie himself is sprawled out on the floor, laying on his back and gesturing with his hands. “I call Stan, right? Because I had a question about that concert I was doing in his coffee shop next week. Are you coming to that, by the way?”

  
Eddie stiffens and avoids eye contact with him. “I’ll see.”

“Eddie Spaghetti, you’ve got to. I’m performing one of my originals!”

“I said I’ll see,” Eddie says again. “I might have to work next week.”

Richie sighs. “Anyways, I call Stan. We’re talking for a second. I say something weird, Stan tells me shut the fuck up, and that’s when I hear it. Laughing!”

“Was it Bill?” Eddie asks, leaning forward. 

“I say, ‘Well, well, well, Stanthony, was that a _ laugh  _ I heard? Are you on a date?’” He says it in a weird Voice, one that Eddie’s never heard before, and he suddenly feels bad for avoiding spending one-on-one time with Richie. He’s missed this. “And he’s like, ‘Shut the fuck up, Richie! It’s just Bill, calm down.’ And, why would Bill be at Stan’s at 9 in the morning? My bet - he stayed the night.” 

“That doesn’t really mean anything, though.” When Richie looks at him crazy, he sighs and stretches his arms above his head. He completely misses Richie staring at the exposed skin. “I mean, you’re staying the night with  _ me,  _ aren’t you? For two whole nights. We aren’t dating.”

Eddie sees something flash in Richie’s eyes, but it’s gone before he can determine what it might have been. “You’ve got a man, though, Eds,” Richie says, smiling at Eddie. His entire mood seems dampened now, but Eddie can’t think of what he might have done to cause this. “Bill and Stan are both free, single, and very gay men.”

  
“Bill is bi, Rich,” 

“So? You can be bi, but still, like, really fucking gay.” He looks at Eddie from his spot on the floor. “You know what I mean?”

“Not really,” Eddie stands and looks down at Richie. “It’s getting late, so I’m going to brush my teeth and everything. You coming?”

  
  


Richie and Eddie brush their teeth side by side, and it feels very domestic, Richie notices as he bumps his shoulder into Eddie’s. He wishes he could point this out without releasing his biggest secret. Instead, he changes into his pajamas in the living room while Eddie changes upstairs. 

When Eddie comes downstairs, he looks so adorable in his too big tee and plaid pajama bottoms that Richie can’t  _ not  _ do it. So he does. He lunges forwards and pinches Eddie on the cheeks, saying, “Cute, cute, cute, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie reaches up to smack his hands away and glares at him, but there’s something soft in his eyes that makes Richie smile. “Don’t call me cute, Richie, we’ve been over this.” He points a finger. “ _ And  _ don’t call me Eddie Spaghetti.”

  
“How can I _not_ call you cute when you’re just so… irresistibly _cute,_ Eds?” Richie flops onto the couch and dramatically sprawls his limbs out. “You wound me, Eds.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie waves a hand dismissively and walks over to the radio to put in another one of the mixtapes that Richie had brought with him. He chooses a random one and slips it in. When the music starts, he turns around, and Richie knows it to make fun of him. Richie doesn’t normally listen to music like this, especially not with other people. But Eddie is special, and Richie  _ loves  _ him, dammit. So when Eddie is fully facing him, a large, beautiful grin that makes Richie himself smile, he stands up and walks over to him. He smirks down at Eddie, and sees his grin falter a little bit. Richie reaches out on instinct. 

_ Don’t do it, Richie,  _ his mind is telling him.  _ He’s got a boyfriend. You know if you touch him at all, if you dance, you won’t be able to stop yourself from kissing him.  _

Richie rests his hands on Eddie’s waist, and feels how Eddie breath quickens a little. That should be enough for Richie to pull away -  _ he’s got a boyfriend!  _ \- but it’s not. He smiles at Eddie, and he feels his stomach doing flips when Eddie looks up at him with those big doe eyes. He flutters his eyelashes shyly, but doesn’t pull away. That’s enough for Richie. “Dance with me, Eds,” he breaths, and he wonders if Eddie could even hear him. It feels like he was saying it in his head, maybe, because he wasn’t entirely conscious when he said it. But Eddie’s eyes light up, and he nods without a second of hesitation, so Richie knows he said it out loud.  _ There’s no going back now,  _ he thinks as Eddie’s arms find their way around his neck. 

They’re swaying softly now, Time After Time playing softly in the background, both of them with abnormally large smiles on their faces. They used to do shit like this all the time when they were younger, so doing it now, several years later, opens a floodgate in Richie’s mind. He remembers dancing in Eddie’s room in the middle of the night. He remembers Eddie telling his to ‘Shut the fuck up, Richie,’ when he would sing along because he was afraid his mom would wake up. He remembers laughing quietly and pulling Eddie impossibly closer and singing softly in his ear. He remembers Eddie sighing and resting his head on Richie’s chest, Richie kissing his hair lovingly. He remembers all the times he had pulled back to look into Eddie’s eyes. All the times he had almost kissed him, because it was too hard to wait. All the times he had panicked and told Eddie he should be going home now, because they had school in the morning. He remembers the confused looks Eddie had given him, because since when did Richie care about school? 

He blinks and thinks he shouldn’t be thinking about that, not when he has Eddie right here in his arms. Beautiful, lovely Eddie. Eddie, who’s looking up at him through dark eyelashes. Eddie, whom he loves very much, with his entire heart. Eddie, the one person he would do literally anything for. He feels the tears coming on, because he can’t  _ really  _ have Eddie. Not how he wants to have him. At least he has him at all, though. He would rather spend the rest of his life with Eddie being in love with someone else and still in his life, fighting the urge to press him against a wall and kiss him endlessly, than to not have him at all. So this will have to do.

He pulls Eddie closer to him, so that their bodies are flush and he can rest his chin on the top of Eddie’s head. He’s shorter than Jake by maybe a few inches, but Eddie’s head fits perfectly on his chest and Richie wouldn’t have it any other way. He wonders briefly where Eddie’s head lays on Jake when they hug - he briefly wonders if Jake and Eddie  _ ever  _ hug, because Eddie never seems to fond of talking about Jake, or introducing any of the Losers to him. What if there’s something going on there that Richie, or any of the Losers, don’t know about? What if Jake doesn’t treat Eddie as well as he deserves to be treated? 

Richie shakes his head, demanding himself to stop thinking about anything other than how it feels to be here with Eddie, in this very moment in time. It feels great. Fantastic, even, because he thinks that maybe this is what if feels like to be with Eddie - to really be with him. Maybe right now, he’s getting a small taste of what his life could’ve been like if he’d grown some balls back in high school. 

_ “If you’re lost you can look, and you will find me, _

_ Time after time. _

_ If you I will catch you, I will be waiting, _

_ Time after time.” _

Richie hopes Eddie is listening to the lyrics, because each and every one of them means something to Richie. No matter what, Eddie can always come to Richie, because Richie loves him. He always will. After his conversation with Beverly, he’s been thinking about Eddie a lot. Wondering if he was okay, hoping he was okay. Every day he wakes up, and he knows he won’t be able to start his day properly until he knows for a  _ fact  _ that Eddie is okay. He sits on his bed, chewing on his lip and smoking until his phone finally rings with a wake up call from Eddie. 

_ “After my picture fades, and darkness _

_ Has turned to gray, _

_ Watching through windows, _

_ You’re wondering if I’m okay.” _

Eddie has pulled back, looking up at Richie again, and there is something in his eyes that Richie can’t put a name on. But it makes Richie’s stomach churn and his heart pound. He wonders if Eddie can hear the pounding in his chest, because Richie can. He hears it, coming from everywhere. Eddie looking at his like that is not helping. 

_ “You say ‘go slow’ _

_ I fall behind. _

_ The second hand unwinds.” _

“Richie,” Eddie whispers, and Richie feels his eyes go wide. He can’t seem to move his gaze from Eddie’s face. He takes it all in - the freckles, the laugh lines, the slight redness of his cheeks. His ginormous fucking bambi eyes that look like they came straight from some sort of anime film. When he meets Eddie’s gaze, he freezes. When did Eddie get that close? “Thank you, Rich.”

  
“Hmm?” 

“For coming here today,” Eddie places a hand flat on Richie’s chest, his tiny palms barely covering any area at all. “For spending time with me. You didn’t have to.”

  
“Yeah, Eds, but I wanted to,” he smiles at Eddie - grins, even - and wraps his arms tight around the man and pulls him closer. He wraps him up in a tight hug, breathing the faint scent of his laundry detergent. It smells like _Eddie,_ and Richie never wants to stop smelling it. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Missed you, too, Rich.”

The song ends, and Richie feels the moment being broken. Maybe it’s only in his head that this happens, but the feeling is strong and Richie can’t help himself but to listen. He doesn’t feel completely in control of his own actions when he says, “All seriousness aside,” and grins into Eddie’s hair. He taps Eddie’s waist gently.

Richie feels Eddie’s body tense up beneath him. “Rich, no. Seriously, Richie.”

“What was that, Eddie Spaghetti?” Richie doesn’t let him say anything else, just begins moving his fingers frantically against Eddie’s sides. Eddie squeals, and Richie’s heart swells at the sound. He moves forwards towards the couch as Eddie giggles, breathing out small, “Stop it, Richie! You -  _ fuck  _ \- stop!” 

“No can do, Spaghettio,” he grins and pushes Eddie down so he laying on the couch, and Richie crawls on top of him. He is completely aware of how intimate the position is, but he can’t stop now. He looks at Eddie’s while he’s doing this. At his scrunched up face, the tears falling down his face from laughing so hard. He looks so incredibly  _ pretty  _ in that moment that Richie almost stops just to admire him. Before he does, Eddie yells out in actual pain.

Richie stops immediately, his hands freezing in their place on Eddie’s waist. “Eds?” He removes his hands and brings Eddie’s attention to him. “Are you alright? What happened?”  
“Um,” Eddie makes to sit up, but Richie puts his hands on his chest and pushes him back down so he’s laying down. “I’m fine, Richie. Really.” This doesn’t stop Richie from looking at him with curious, unbelieving eyes as his hands move to the hem of Eddie’s shirt. “Richie! Really, you just hit a soft spot.”

Eddie moves his hands to cover Richie, and the look on his face is pleading with Richie not to lift up his shirt. What could be underneath his shirt that was so important to hide that he was this shaken up about it? If someone had hurt him - he had to know. So he takes both of Eddie’s wrists in one hand and lifts them gently away from his body, all the while maintaining eye contact. Eddie looks near tears. Richie wonders if he’ll feel the same in a few moments. Slowly, as if dealing with a scared animal, he begins to lift up the shirt. Eddie whimpers. Richie looks away from him. He doesn’t know if he can handle the look on Eddie’s face - the utter, undeniable sadness. The guilt. The regret. The  _ anger.  _ Was he angry at Richie? He had a right, after all. But really, all Richie wanted to know was that Eddie was okay.

When he finishes lifting Eddie’s shirt, the room is completely silent except for Eddie’s labored breathing. On the left side of Eddie’s stomach, there is a large, purple, fresh-looking bruise. Eddie lets out a sob, and he sounds so out of breath that Richie has to look up at him in worry. “Do you need your inhaler?” Richie’s voice sounds loud in the empty home. Too loud.

Eddie shakes his head.

Richie sighs, taking his hand and reaching forward to gently brush the bruise with his finger. Eddie gasps at the contact, but this time Richie can’t seem to look away. Upon sight of the bruise, he knows in his head how it got there. He knows, without a doubt, and it somehow explains the entirety of the past two years of their lives. He does in fact feel like crying. “Eddie,” he whimpers, his voice breaking. He feels a sob coming on. “Don’t tell me -” Eddie just nods, his eyes on Richie’s hand as it covers the bruise. The sob gets caught in his throat, so instead a weird noise sounding almost like a gasp comes out. He feels like he’s suffocating. The only thing he can see right now is the bruise - that  _ fucking  _ bruise - and he wants to punch something. Anything. 

Except Eddie’s breathing is only getting worse, so Richie uses all the force in his body to stand up and step away from Eddie to go fetch his inhaler. He finds it sitting on the kitchen counter, grabs it, then rushes back into the living room. Eddie looks terrible - pale and shaking, taking deep breaths that whistle in his throat. His feet are moving faster than Richie thinks they have in his entire life on his way to Eddie. There is zero hesitation in his actions as Richie shoves the inhaler into Eddie’s mouth and presses the button, releasing the fake medicine into his mouth. He does this twice more, until Eddie taps Richie on the arm, letting him know he’s good. 

Richie takes the inhaler away from Eddie and places it on the floor next to him. Normally Eddie would freak out about this, because,  _ Jesus, Richie, I put my fucking  _ mouth  _ on that,  _ but Eddie had closed his eyes and was leaning against a pillow. He looks exhausted. Richie takes a moment to just watch Eddie. He doesn’t know how long he does, but he does know that Eddie looks beautiful in this moment. Terrible, yes. But beautiful.

He reaches out, takes Eddie’s hand gently in his own. “Eds.”

“Hmm,”

  
“We need to talk about this.”

“Not now.”

“But, Eds -!”

  
Without opening his eyes, Eddie squeezes Richie’s hand. “Tomorrow,” he says firmly.

Richie sighs. He nods, but he knows Eddie can’t see him. He squeezes Eddie’s hand in return. 

There are a lot of emotions rippling through Richie that night as he watched Eddie sleep on the couch. Anger, adoration. Love. He groans out loud, shoveling his face in a pillow to muffle the noise. Why Eddie, out of all people? Why him? He sighs, looks over at Eddie’s sleeping figure. 

Tomorrow, they talk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long, this chapter was really difficult for me to write. I hope it turned out okay though? let me know what you think :)


	6. "Because You Love Me, Don't You Eddie?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Jake meet. the beginning of it all.

When Eddie first met Jake, he was two weeks away from being nineteen. He had been working in a small cafe downtown New York, with his hair combed neatly and an apron wrapped around his waist. 

“Hi, how may I help you?” He asked a kind looking woman, who had her hair in a messy bun and around three children trailing behind her. As she was stating her order, Eddie couldn’t help but to look at that table again. The one with the boy - the boy with dirty blonde hair and who’d been staring at Eddie for maybe an hour. When he began to smile, Eddie looked away, an uncomfortable feeling washing over him. 

He grinned and thanked the woman for visiting their restaurant when she was done with her order and walked away to the kitchen. As soon as the strange boy was out of sight, Eddie’’s chest got lighter and he felt like he could breathe again. He handed over the order to a chef and stayed in the kitchen for a moment longer. He waited, gave himself a pep talk, and made himself go back outside. Eddie avoided the boy for as long as he could, only walking past him in order to go check on his other tables. When everyone in his area was finished, he could leave. He could leave, and he would never see the strange boy again. 

He went home that day and told Richie about the man from work. Richie had only laughed, telling Eddie, “He must’ve just thought you were cute, Eds. Be stupid not to.” Then, Richie had slapped his butt playfully and snorted when Eddie jumped. As he walked away, Eddie looked after him, confused. 

Halfway through his shift two days later, the boy was back again. This time, Eddie thought about what Richie had told him. What if the boy really  _ did  _ just think he was cute? Maybe he just had trouble flirting and was scared to approach Eddie. The boy wasn’t bad looking, either. He was actually quite the opposite. Now that Eddie was a little less freaked out by him, he was able to appreciate his looks. He was a rugged sort of handsome.  _ Kind of like Richie,  _ Eddie notes, and smiles. Maybe he’ll give the boy a chance. So he walks over to him table, because today the boy is sitting in Eddie’s section, and gives him a smile.

“Hi, my name is Eddie, and I’ll be your waiter today.” The boy still looks at him, and up close Eddie can see that his eyes are a pretty blue color. He smiles. “Can I get you started with anything to drink?”

“I’ll have a water, please.” His voice is rough and deep and it sends a shiver down Eddie’s spine. 

Eddie nods, smiles. He goes to get the water, giving himself another pep talk, and goes back to the table. He sets the water down in front of the boy and giving him what he hopes is a flirtatious smile. “Can I ask your name?”

The boy smiles for the first time since their interaction had begun, and Eddie does not fail to notice how truly attractive he is. “Jake,” he says, still smiling. 

“Jake,” he says, testing it out on his tongue. “I like it. I’m Eddie.”

  
The boy - Jake - laughs quietly. “You already said that,” he tells Eddie, and Eddie can feel the blush rising to his cheeks. “But it’s nice to meet you, Eddie.”  
  


He goes on his first date with Jake two weeks later, and a second a week after that. Him and Jake get along really well together, and this is important to Eddie. He’s never really dated before, but he thinks that maybe you’re supposed to get along with your significant other. No - this, he knows. He spends a lot of time with Jake, and less time with his friends. He doesn’t notice. He’s two caught up in Jake. After two months, he thinks he loves him. 

He tells Jake this at two in the morning as he’s falling asleep in Jake’s house, his head on Jake’s shoulder. He’s asleep before he can see the devilish grin on Jake’s face. 

He’s been dating Jake for six months when he hits him for the first time. Eddie practically lives at Jake’s house by now, with a drawer of his own things in his bedroom. He’s making breakfast on the day after their six month anniversary. He makes pancakes, because those are Jake’s favorite. He’s humming happily to himself while Jake watches football in the living room. He stumbles, and the pancake mix goes everywhere. 

Now, Eddie is a smart person. He always did good in school, but he was even better with people, hence why he was studying psychology. So, yes, he’s noticed some weird things about Jake. Like how he just kind of sat back and watched when Eddie stubbed his toe on the table, a look of almost... pleasure, on his features. How he always seems to stare at Eddie when he does something wrong - whether it be snap at him, curse, or even make some sort of joke. So it shouldn’t be a surprise when Jake slaps him. It really shouldn’t be, but it is. He stumbles back a few steps, stares at Jake in shock. “What…?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Jake snaps, staring down at Eddie, but Eddie doesn’t back down. Eddie may be small - exceptionally so - but he’s tough, and he will stand up for himself no matter the circumstances.’

“What the hell is wrong with  _ you _ ?” He snaps, glaring up at Jake. He can almost feel his cheek swelling. Jake hit him hard, and Eddie can still feel his cheek stinging. 

This time, it’s Jake’s fist that collides with Eddie in the stomach, and Eddie nearly collapses. He doesn’t, though. He stands up straight, glances at the spilled pancake mix, then back at Jake with steady eyes. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he snarls and stands up to his full height, which is still significantly shorter than Jake. Jake just smiles and takes a step closer to Eddie, successfully trapping him against the counter. 

“I can touch you whenever and however I want to,  _ baby _ ,” he says the last word like it’s a taunt - and, quite frankly, it is. He puts his hands on Eddie’s hips and seems to revel in the way Eddie squirms. 

“Don’t  _ call  _ me that!” He shouts, and he actually means it, unlike when he tells Richie to stop calling him weird nicknames. “And let me go, Jake.” Jake doesn’t move. Just holds Eddie in place against the counter, because he is very much stronger than Eddie is, and they both know it. Eventually, Eddie stops squirming and just glares up at Jake in what he hopes in an intimidating manner. “Seriously, Jake. It’s over. We’re over. Let me go.”

  
Jake’s eyes darken when Eddie says those words. He looks so _angry_ that Eddie almost backs down, but he knows he can’t. It doesn’t matter what Jake does to him in this moment, because they’re over. Eddie knows it, and he only hopes Jake can catch on. Jake leans forward and places his mouth right next to Eddie’s ear. Eddie can practically hear him grinning when he says, “Is that so? Because, as far as I know,” he pushes Eddie harder against the counter top. Eddie grunts out in pain. “You are not going anywhere. We are going to spend the rest of our lives together, and you’re going to love it. Because you love me, don’t you Eddie?”

Eddie whimpers. He can feel the edge of the counter top digging into his back, into his spine, and it hurts so bad Eddie might pass out. He doesn’t know what makes him do it - maybe Jake, right in front of him, towering above him, pressing his back to the counter - but he nods, his eyes shut tight and tears threatening to spill. 

“Good boy,” Jake purrs into Eddie’s ear, his hot breath making Eddie shiver, and not in a good way. Finally, fucking  _ finally _ , Jake pulls away. Eddie arches his back away from the counter, his eyes shut tight. He’s about to relax when Jake grips the neckline of his shirt and pulls Eddie forwards, so far that he has to go on his tiptoes in order to not be choked. “You tell anyone about this - especially those nerdy fucking friends of yours - you’re dead. You got that, Kaspbrak?” Eddie nods, suddenly terrified for his own life. Could Jake read his mind? Eddie had just been thinking about running upstairs and calling Richie, but that was obviously not an option anymore. “Good,” Jake let go of Eddie and grabbed his inhaler off of the couch and chucked it at him. Eddie sprayed it, and he felt his lungs opening back up, but that did nothing to calm his racing heart. He feels Jake eyeing him. “Go upstairs and take off your clothes. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  
Eddie does not think twice about complying. 

  
  


Jake had always been good at avoiding his face. Anything that he couldn’t cover up was a no go. 

One day, Eddie messes up really bad. You see, him and Richie had always been close. Too close, some might say. They had no problem being in each other’s personal space, always hugging and Richie constantly calling Eddie cute and pinching his cheeks. So, naturally, Jake does not like this. He’s never liked Richie, always referring to him as ‘the ugly one with the mop on his head.’ And, come on - Richie is not ugly. He never has been, even with his buck teeth and too big glasses. He’s handsome, in a rugged sort of way. He always has girls throwing themselves at him. So why Jake would call him ugly is beyond Eddie. Who knows, maybe he was just jealous. 

Richie had come over while Jake was at work to keep him company. It’s not like they were doing anything inappropriate. No, they were just watching movies and eating popcorn. Even then, at that time, Eddie had been getting thinner. Jake ate unnaturally healthy, so this habit had fallen upon Eddie as well. He was losing weight, but not a quickly as he would be about a year from now. So when Richie had shown up with popcorn, Eddie had nearly collapsed in tears. He hadn’t had popcorn in  _ forever,  _ and he tells Richie this. Richie gawks at him, because popcorn is Eddie’s favorite. So it’s no surprise to Eddie when he finds himself, hours later, full of popcorn, but not nearly full enough of Richie. They’re sitting on the floor on a makeshift palette, Richie’s legs spread and Eddie sitting between them, his back to Richie’s chest. Richie’s hands are splayed across Eddie’s torso, where Eddie absentmindedly plays with his fingers as he watches the movie. 

The moment is nice. To just be with Richie, his best friend, is all that Eddie could ever ask for. It feels good to be this close to Richie, to be surrounded by his comforting presence. This is something Eddie really needs right now. His situation with Jake is stressing him out to his breaking point. He wants to tell someone, needs to tell someone. Which is what he might have done that day, if Jake hadn’t come home an hour early. 

As soon as Eddie hears the jingle of keys outside the door, he shoots up rushes to make Richie get to his feet as well. Jake  _ cannot  _ know that Richie and Eddie had been cuddling on the floor. It would only make the punishment worse.

Eddie can see the anger in Jake’s eyes as his gaze lands on Richie. He’s nice as he watches Richie leave, Richie throwing an exaggerated peace sign over his shoulder as he walked away. As soon as the door is shut, Eddie is getting punched in the nose. He stumbles to floor and looks up at Jake. “What were you  _ thinking _ ?” Jake yells, kicking Eddie in the stomach. 

Now, Eddie is smart. But he has a sharp tongue, and he hasn’t learned to hold it around Jake just yet. “He’s my best friend!” Eddie snaps, glaring up at Jake. “Why do you have a  _ fucking  _ problem with it?”

And oh, Jake does not like this. He kicks Eddie in the stomach. “That’s for having the kid in this house,” he snarls. “You’re in for a real hurt train for snapping. And cussing.” He spits in Eddie’s face, and Eddie mentally gags. 

When he wakes up in the morning, there is a bag of ice and a fifty dollar bill on the counter next to him.

  
  


It’s Eddie’s fault. It all is. If he hadn’t flirted with Jake that day, hadn’t agreed to go on a date, he would be living a happy life in his apartment. Which he had sold. Because Jake told him to, and Eddie loves Jake. Maybe if Eddie was less of a screw up, maybe if he could something right for once, maybe he wouldn’t even be in this situation right now. 

But Jake l _oves_ Eddie, cares for him. So how bad could it really be?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, hello, I am back again. this chapter was hard to write at first, but once I got going, I got going. I hope it's not too rough though? let me know what you think :)


	7. "I'm Gonna Get You Out of This, Eds."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie have a heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, I've been forgetting to mention this in the last few chapters, but 100 kudos? really? that's freaking amazing. I never thought this story would do so good! thank you every one who have been reading this story. the kudos and comments really inspire me.
> 
> on another note, I don't know if I really like this chapter? it was a little rough to write (I say that about every chapter lol) but I think it came out okay. I hope so, anyway. let me know what you think!

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

“Richie, no.” Eddie puts a hand on Richie’s shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting manner. Eddie had explained  _ everything  _ to Richie, from when they met to when it had started to get bad. Richie was confused through the whole thing, but he wouldn't say anything. Instead, he stood up and paced around the living room. “You don’t need to do that.”

  
“Why would I not, though?” Richie spins around to face Eddie, towering over him. Eddie can’t help but to feel intimidated. Now that Richie is facing him, Eddie can clearly see the tears in his eyes. “He fucking - he _hurts_ you, Eds!”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say to this. What Richie is saying is true, Jake does hurt him, but what Richie doesn’t understand is that it’s all Eddie’s fault. “Richie,” he cries, and yes - now he’s noticing the tears in his own eyes, as well. He reaches up and puts his hands on Richie’s cheeks, forcing his to meet his eyes. “Richie, please. Calm down.”

Richie looks like he hasn’t slept - the bags under his eyes are magnified by his glasses, and his eyes are half closed and blood shot. He wonders if Richie had stayed awake last night after… well. After he discovered the truth. He wouldn’t be surprised. Richie tended to get worried about things that weren’t worth worrying for. Like Eddie, for example - he was  _ always  _ so worried about Eddie when they weren’t together. He felt so bad for making Richie worry, and his situation now was only going to make it worse. If only there was a way to make Richie not worry, but he knows he won’t stop. 

“Calm down?” Richie’s voice is quiet now, almost like a whisper. He’s looking at Eddie with so many different emotion in his eyes that Eddie can’t define a single one. Richie shakes his head, wipes a tear from his eye. “I can’t, Eddie. You - you don’t deserve this, Eds. You’re so - you’re a fucking  _ angel _ , and the fact that Jake thinks he can lay his hands on you makes me sick. It makes me so -” a sob escapes his mouth, and Eddie’s heart breaks a little. 

Eddie’s grip on Richie’s cheek tightens, and he wants Richie to open his eyes so he can see Eddie when he’s talking. So he can see that Eddie is telling him the truth. That he means every word. Richie’s eyes stay shut. “You don’t have to worry about me,” Eddie whispers, and it sounds so loud in the empty house. Violently, Richie shakes his head. “It’s not - it’s because of me, Richie, I… if I could just -”

“Shit, Eds,” Richie pulls away from Eddie and begins pacing again, his eyes squeezed shut and heart wrenching sobs escaping his body. 

Eddie watches him with wide eyes. “I’m serious, Rich! It’s all my fault, and I know it. I know it!” Eddie feels his knees weaken, and he thinks about the day before, when it was all so light hearted. Now he was falling to the floor, his face covered in tears and his heart hurting like it’s never hurt before. “I know it,  _ you  _ know it, and  _ Jake  _ knows it! If I could just do something right, for once, this wouldn’t even be happening!”

“ _ Shut up! _ ” Richie shouts, and he’s stopped his pacing and is walking towards Eddie in an almost furious manner. “Shut up, Eddie. Everything you’re saying - it’s all nonsense, Eds.” He kneels in front of Eddie and places both of his hands on Eddie’s cheek. Eddie doesn’t look at him, just keeps his eyes on his knees where they’re pulled to his chest. “Eds, really. You’re perfect, and if Jake doesn’t see that - he doesn’t deserve you. Just because you mess up sometimes doesn’t mean he should  _ hit  _ you, for fuck’s sake!”

Eddie just cries harder, because what Richie’s saying isn’t true. It c _ an’t  _ be true. All these things about Eddie just aren’t  _ right _ . He’s not perfect, he’s not even close. Otherwise, why would Jake need to punish him so much? 

“Eddie - Eddie look at me, please,” Richie begs. Eddie doesn’t even acknowledge him. Doesn’t shake his head, doesn’t do anything. Just keeps crying. When Richie speaks again, Eddie can clearly hear how hard he’s crying as well. The situation is so surreal that it just makes Eddie cry even harder. “Let me tell you something, Eds -” he pauses and takes a deep breath. Eddie feels his chest tighten. “Jake is - he’s so lucky to have you.” Richie laughs, but there’s no humor in it. Just hurt. He brings his face closer to Eddie’s and places their foreheads together. “You’re so amazing, Eds. If he wants to waste his opportunity with you, that’s his problem. He doesn’t realize how lucky he is that you took interest in him. There are so many boys out there who would do  _ anything  _ to get a chance with you. Trust me, Eds. I know. You - you are so many things, so many wonderful things. You’re smart, funny, and you’re so,  _ so  _ beautiful, Eds.” 

“Richie,” Eddie says through his tears, and he lifts his eyes. Richie looks to good in that moment, with his eyes shut tightly and tears spilling down his cheeks, which are red, so  _ red _ . His normally chapped lips look soft, wet with tears, and Eddie wants to run his thumb along Richie’s plump bottom lip, so he does. He touches it gently, and only then does he notice that something is shaking. He can’t tell whether it’s his own hand or Richie’s lip, but it might as well be both. 

“I love you, Eds. I love you  _ so  _ much.” Richie opens his eyes, and the moment they lock gaze with Eddie’s, Eddie can feel his lungs expand. He doesn’t need his inhaler, because having Richie here with him, telling all of these things, loving him, it’s enough.  _ Richie’s  _ enough. At some point, his hands fisted the back of Richie’s shirt as if his life depended on it. Maybe it does. “You mean everything to me. Everything.” 

“I know, Rich,” Eddie breaths, but he doesn’t know. Or maybe he just wants to hear Richie say it again.

“You deserve so much better than this. You deserve someone who - who’ll treat you like a fucking  _ prince _ , god dammit.” Richie’s entire body is shaking now. “And after everything you’ve been through! With your mom, all the shit you got in high school. We thought it would be safe here, you know? Better, for all of us.” Eddie knows Richie means every word of what he’s saying, because it’s all said in his eyes. “Greatest city in the world, huh? What a load of bullshit.”

Eddie’s squeezes his eyes shut again. “Rich…” he mumbles, then he’s crying. Loud, gross crying, with snot dripping out of his nose and his chest aching. He reaches for Richie, for all of him, and Richie is right there in front of him. Eddie presses his face into the crook of Richie’s neck and cries there, instead, because then at least Richie can’t see him. He thinks maybe Richie is crying, too, because he’s still shaking, even with his body wrapped around Eddie.

Neither of them know how long they sit there for. Eddie, with his knees pulled to his chest, his arms still clutching Richie’s shirt, his face in Richie’s neck. Richie, Richie, Richie. He just wants to be closer, somehow. Closer to Richie. Richie, who’s on his knees in front of Eddie, enveloping the smaller boy in a hug so tight he’s afraid he might be suffocating him. His chin rests atop Eddie’s head, nosing into his strawberry smelling hair. If only Eddie knew how much Richie really did love him. 

Instead, Eddie just keeps crying.

 

 

Richie’s hands are shaking where he’s trying to light his cigarette. He’s been chasing the flame for almost thirty seconds before he finally manages to light it. Immediately, he inhales deeply.

There are plenty of things Richie should be thinking about right now. Like maybe that he basically confessed his love to Eddie, made it so obvious. He can’t seem to care, though. Eddie needs to know that he is loved, because Jake - Jake does not love Eddie. Eddie may think he does, but if that’s love, then maybe Richie really  _ hasn’t  _ been in love with Eddie for most of his life. 

Eddie’s tough. Richie knows this. He’s small, yes, but he’s fucking tough. He was lied to almost all of his childhood, practically preventing him from having one. Then he grows up, escapes his mother, and instead falls right into the arms of another monster, maybe worse than his mother. There are similarities between Mrs. K and Jake, this Richie is sure of. Both are manipulative, lying bastards. 

To think that Jake made Eddie believe that it was all his fault. Every hit, every word, all Eddie’s fault. It makes Richie sick, because he meant every word he said to Eddie back there. Eddie really is a fucking angel here on earth, both on the inside and the outside. It drives Richie crazy. 

He wants to think he could help Eddie. Wants to think that he could really show him what love is. He knows, though - he knows even  _ he  _ doesn’t deserve Eddie. What Eddie needs is someone who is perfect for him in every sense of the word. Someone who does even the little things right, like actually fixing the bed in the morning. Eddie deserves something more than Richie. Richie, who’s too tall, too skinny. Richie, who only washes his hair every other day. Richie, who doesn’t know how to dress nice, not really. 

No, Eddie deserves someone like Bill. Someone who could treat Eddie right, someone who could make Eddie so damn  _ happy _ . Someone tall, but filled out. Someone handsome. Some so fucking nice, such a fucking good person, someone who could treat Eddie right. Like how Eddie deserves to be treated.

Dammit, Richie’s thoughts are a fucking mess. There are so many things going through his head right now, all of them important, and all of them killing him. 

He’s just, he’s so fucking angry right now. How could he not of realized this was going on? It’s so obvious now, all of the signs right there in front of his own fucking eyes. He was supposed to be Eddie’s best friend, for fuck’s sake. But then again, why should he have to be realizing something like that? Why does Eddie have to go through all this shit? Why should Richie have been  _ looking  _ for signs? Eddie, sweet, sweet Eddie, shouldn’t have to deal with this. He shouldn’t even be close to people like Jake, the sick fucking sociopath. 

Maybe, just maybe, if Richie had grown some balls back when they were teenagers, then maybe Eddie wouldn’t be dealing with this right now. Maybe he would be living with Richie, instead. Maybe he would be happy. Richie knows, though, that Eddie wouldn’t have been happy with him. Eddie was so, so right for Richie. But Richie was so, so wrong for Eddie. 

Richie puts the cigarette out and throws it to the ground, stomping on it. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair before turning around to go inside. His feet carry him to the couch where Eddie lies, snuggled into a cocoon of blankets. He looks peaceful when he sleeps, Richie notices. A complete polar opposite of how he had looked earlier today. 

He looks at Eddie, at his eyelashes where the flutter against his cheeks. His freckles are going away now, because it’s winter and the sun isn’t out as much in New York. Richie leans forward, reaching his hand out to rub the soft skin oh his cheek, and thinks about how much he loves Eddie. “I’m gonna get you out of this, Eds,” Richie whispers, and kisses Eddie’s forehead. His lips hover there. “I promise.” 


	8. "You Okay, Spaghetti Man?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake is in a weirdly good mood. Richie is not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning that this chapter kind of sucks. 
> 
> sorry I haven't been updating very often - I went on vacation with my family. whenever I tried to sit down and write, someone always interrupted me. but here I am now, with a crappy little chapter. my apologies.

Eddie makes Jake his favorite pancakes like he does every other morning without hassle. He doesn’t drop the mix, doesn’t burn the food. It’s a good morning in Eddie Kaspbrak’s book. 

It’s been a month since Richie had found out about his… issues. A month since Richie had freaked out, cried, threatened to kill Jake. He had been so emotional about it, but Eddie hadn’t even told him everything. He didn’t mention the diet, or the cigarette burn, the  _ mental  _ abuse. The isolation. They just hadn’t felt necessary to mention.

He hasn’t seen Richie since. He misses his so fucking much, but he knows he won’t be able to face Richie. Not after everything. He’s never had to deal with someone knowing, and he really doesn’t to start now. Jake comes down for breakfast and eats in a hurry. Eddie doesn’t eat at all, but neither of them mention it. “Alright,” Jake starts with a smile as Eddie puts the dishes in the sink. “Today, we are going on a little adventure.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, but he’s faced away from Jake so that he can’t see him. Jake hates when Eddie raises his eyebrows - says it makes it seem like he’s doubting him. Eddie should never doubt Jake. “Oh?”

“Dress nice, yeah?” At this, Eddie actually looks at Jake in confusion. Jake doesn’t even mention it. “We’re gonna go see a movie, then clothes shopping. I know you love that.”

“Um,” Eddie doesn’t know what to say to this, not really. Jake never takes him out. Definitely not to do something _ Eddie  _ would want to do - since when did he even  _ know  _ what Eddie liked to do? He wants to ask Jake why he’s in such a good mood, but he doesn’t want to ruin it. He just smiles sweetly instead. “Yeah. Yeah, sounds good.”

  
So when he’s finished washing the plates, he rushes up the stairs to find something decent to wear. He briefly considers his overalls, but decides against it because he knows Jake hates his overalls. They were a light, denim blue, and Jake prefers Eddie to wear dark clothes. It makes his look skinnier. So he pulls on his favorite pair of black skinny jeans, jumping to get them around his thighs. He looks for forever through his closet until he settles on a navy blue sweater. It’s match his navy high top converse perfectly. He looks at himself in the mirror for maybe a moment too long, because Jake is calling for him from downstairs.

Jake eyes him for a moment with a satisfied smile before nodding his head to the door. Eddie grins. Being like this with Jake reminds him of when they had first started dating, when everything was a perfect bliss of love and happiness. Reality hits his with a force as he’s making his way out of the door, because this will most likely be over after today. Things will be back to normal. Eddie will do something wrong like he always does, and then shit’ll hit the fan. 

Eddie tries to ignore these thoughts as they plague his mind. He gets in the passenger seat of the truck and smiles over at Jake, who looks out of his mind in glee. He decides he doesn’t mind this Jake. He’s nice to be around, even if just for the time being. 

So they watch the movie, one that Eddie couldn’t tell you the name of if he tried, because Jake held his hand the whole time. Eddie is so happy with this new change he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He can’t remember the last time he had been this happy. Maybe in the living room, dancing with Richie as he called him stupid names and stood a little too close to Eddie. Not that Eddie minded, really, because Richie had been his best friend for years. Nothing really bothered him anymore.

He felt an ache in his chest as he thought about Richie. He wanted to talk to him, and not over the phone - in real life. Richie had been calling him every night, talking in quiet hushes. 

_ “You okay, Spaghetti Man?” Richie asks. Eddie doesn’t even correct him on the stupid nickname.  _

_ “Yeah,” he shifts his weight on the counter, talking as quietly as possible as to not wake up Jake. He would kill him if he found out he was talking to Richie on the phone. “Yeah, I’m good.” _

_ “How’s it going with Jake?” Richie spits his name out like venom, like it hurts him to say it out loud. To know Eddie lives with him, every day of his life. _

_ “Yeah, it’s going good,” he says. You know, like a liar.  _

_ “Eds,” Richie warns. _

_ Eddie cries into the phone. Never explaining, but his cries are all Richie needs to know.  _

Eddie is experiencing everything in a haze as they enter the mall. He wonders if Richie had kept his promise. Eddie hopes he has. 

They mess around in the mall for a little while, testing out different flavors of ice cream that Eddie doesn’t even get near, and walking into weird stores and making fun of ugly clothes.  _ This is how it should be,  _ Eddie thinks, as Jake pulls on his hand in the direction of Eddie’s favorite store.  _ Yeah, this is how it should be. _

  
  


Richie sees them first - he must have, because when Eddie makes eye contact with him across the room, Richie had already been looking at him. He shivers at the intensity of the gaze before looking away, because he knows Richie will end up coming over to them, anyways. It takes him minute, but eventually he hears it: “Is than an Eddie Spaghetti I see?”

Eddie closes his eyes and sighs, looking over at Richie with a soft smile. It’s hard to get the words out properly when he makes direct contact with Richie’s magnified eyes, which are saying so much to him. There are so many different emotions in his eyes that Eddie can’t focus on just one. He can see his freckles, too, splattered against his cheeks and under his eyes. It takes him a second, but he finally manages to get out a simple, “Hi, Richie.”

  
Richie looks unsatisfied with this response, but he doesn’t say anything. Almost like he knows what pushing too far would result in. Eddie is incredibly grateful for this. Richie looks at Jake - even lifts his chin a bit, because Jake is maybe two inches taller than Richie. He should probably be intimidated, Eddie thinks, what with an angry and protective 6’5 man who weighs more than 150 more than him standing above him, looking about ready to kill. Instead, Richie just reaches a hand out, salutes with the other, and says in an awful British Voice, “Ay, nice tah see ya again, me good fellah! Long time so see, ay, ay?”

  
“Richie,” is all Jake says, adding a little nod at the end. Eddie doesn’t know what to be more afraid of - the anger in Jake’s eyes or the anger in Richie’s. He supposes the latter, because Richie has never been one _not_ to act out on his feelings, and Eddie doesn't really want to know what will happen to either of them if he approaches Jake. 

Richie looks back at Eddie, and his eyes soften significantly. “How are you?” He asks in a quiet voice, as if it’s a secret just between the two of them. Eddie thinks that maybe it is, because the way Richie is looking at him, the unidentifiable look in his eyes. Eddie is almost positive he’s never had anyone look at him that way before. So he nods to Richie to let him know he’s okay. Richie’s face breaks out into a large, dorky grin, and Eddie can’t help but notice the way his eyes crinkle behind his glasses. He hasn’t seen Richie smile like that in a long time, and the thought makes his chest ache. 

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks him, genuinely curious. This is Eddie’s favorite store, one with soft sweatshirts and pastel colors and it’s clean, clean, clean. Richie has always hated this store, says he feels out of place and like everyone is watching him. Which is probably true, Eddie thinks, noticing how Richie is dressed: ripped, black skinny jeans, a band tee, and an obnoxious hawaiian shirt to top it all off. 

Richie looks taken aback by the sudden question, his eyebrows furrowing together. He looks around the store. Eddie watches as his mouth drops into a silent ‘o’ as he reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Oh, right - well, Eds, can’t a guy get his shopping in?” 

Eddie doesn’t question him. He doesn’t have the energy to. Seeing Richie, flesh and bones, has hit him directly in the stomach. Richie  _ knows _ , God dammit. No one was supposed to find out, ever. But Richie knows, and he’s standing here in front of Eddie and Jake, and there’s about a 50/50 chance that Richie will sock Jake in the face. He really hopes he doesn’t. 

“Are we done here?” And, oh, Eddie had nearly forgotten Jake was there. He curses himself, because he knows that Jake doesn’t like Richie. Yet he lets himself get carried away in a conversation, and now Jake’s good mood is most likely gone. God, why does he have to ruin everything? 

Richie’s eyes go cold as he looks at Jake. Eddie notices his hands have become fists at his sides. “I don’t know,” he says in a mocking tone. Eddie shuts his eyes, terrified suddenly. “Are we?”

Jake clenches his jaw, like he always does when he’s mad at Eddie. Eddie visibly shrinks into himself. “Yeah,” he says, and grabs Eddie’s waist harshly. “We are.” With that, he pulls Eddie out of the store and away from Richie. He doesn’t look back at Richie, but he can almost feel his gaze searing into Eddie’s back. 

Eddie sniffles.

“Can’t wait to get the fuck out of this town,” Jake spits out, and Eddie turns his head to look at him so fast he thinks he might get whiplash. 

“W… What?”

Jake is grinning now, not looking at Eddie, but his grip on his waist tightens a bit. “We’re leaving, Eddie. We’re going far away from here.”

  
  
  


Richie watches them go. Now that he knows, he notices every little thing that isn’t normal about their relationship. He sees the way Jake grips Eddie’s waist a little too hard, the way Eddie is oddly quiet around him. He sees the way Jake looks at Eddie, and anyone who talks to Eddie. 

Richie looks around the store and sighs. He was supposed to get Eddie a present - he knows Eddie loves this store, and he wanted to apologize. For what, he didn’t know, but he felt like he needed to. He also simply loved to buy Eddie presents, because he looked so cute unfolding the wrapping paper perfectly, with his tongue sticking out and his eyebrows furrowed. He wanted to see Eddie like that. He wanted to see him happy. 

He rushes out of the store without a gift for Eddie, but there are more pressing matters on his mind right now. 

He’s pulling into Beverly’s driveway before he even knows where we was wanting to go. Maybe to see Eddie. But he needs to talk to Beverly. He jumps out of the car, slams the door shut, and inhales from the cigarette he’s now holding in his left hand. He bangs on the front door until it swings open.

Bev is only wearing a tanktop and shorts, and her lips are bright red and her hair is messy. Richie doesn’t really want to think about what she might have been doing before he showed up. Upon sight of Richie, she doesn’t even question him, just steps back and holds the door open for him to step in. 

Ben is sitting on the couch without a shirt on, and his hair is nearly as messy as Bev’s. His eyebrows furrow when he sees Richie. “Richie?” He asks, and Richie almost starts crying right there, but instead he waits for Bev’s hands to find their way to his shoulders. 

He cries, and cries, and cries for what feels like hours, with Bev running her hand up and down his back in a soothing manner. He cries, because he fucking loves Eddie so fucking much, and Eddie is suffering. His poor baby is  _ hurting.  _ Richie wants to help, but he doesn’t know how. So he shuts off the floodgates and starts talking. He tells them everything.

They just hug him when he starts crying again. 


	9. "He - He knows it's wrong!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben, Beverly, and Richie have a study session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys. this might be the first time I'm saying this but I actually kind of like this chapter? I don't know, I was kind of on a roll today. anyways, I hope you enjoy. let me know what you think!

Ben Hanscom hadn’t had plans for his Tuesday, but he can certainly say he hadn’t been expecting to spend it where he was. He was most likely going to spend it with Beverly, hanging around in the house and watching crappy TV and maybe kissing a little, if he got lucky. Maybe the losers would have all gotten together, gone roller skating, or swimming. Who knew. There were a million different opportunities of things to do in New York City on a Tuesday.

Yet here he was, sitting across from Richie Tozier in a public library with a stack of books laid out across the table. Richie’s leg was bouncing, up and down, up and down, and if Ben had it in him, he would have said something about it. But there’s a no smoking sign on the wall, and both of them know there is no way in hell Richie is leaving this library until he figures out a way to help Eddie. 

Richie is still wearing the same clothes he showed up to their house in last night - jeans and an ugly hawaiian shirt. Ben had offered clothes, but Richie is so lanky they wouldn’t have stayed on him, and he’s so tall that Bev’s wouldn’t have fit him. So he’s here, pulling at his greasy curls and hovering so close to a book titled  _ Abusive Relationships and the Effects of Those Included,  _ eyes lidded from lack of sleeps, and his leg still bouncing. 

Ben looks away and back to his own book. He hadn’t slept much the previous night, either, sitting up in bed with a crying Bev and only falling asleep when he absolutely couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. He woke up approximately ten minutes later. The words on the page in front of him are blurring together, so much that he can only make out words like “ashamed” and “trapped” and “belittled”. He felt sick. 

“Fuck,” Richie mutters, and when Ben looks up at him, his finger is scanning the page along with his eyes, and he’s standing up. He kicks the table. “Fuck!”

“Richie,” Ben says, his voice laced with sympathy. Richie doesn’t hear the librarian telling him to be quiet, Ben thinks, because he looks at Ben. His eyes are so wide, red around the edges, and Ben’s chest aches for him. This is hard for him, yes. It will be for all the losers when they find out, because they all love Eddie dearly. Richie, though - Richie loves Eddie in a different way. Ask any one of their friends, excluding Eddie himself, and they would tell you the same thing. It’s so painfully obvious, has been since they were young, and it’s only grown more obvious as the years have gone on. Ben can only imagine what must be going on in Richie’s head at the moment. 

Richie doesn’t sit down, just puts his hands back on the top of his head and closes his eyes, swearing quietly underneath his breath. He doesn’t open his eyes when Ben starts talking. “Richie, please sit down,” he begs quietly. He can feel himself starting to cry, because Richie Tozier, unbreakable, insensitive, Richie Tozier, was breaking right in front of him. “We need to do this.”

“I can’t, Ben.”

“Please,” Ben says, voice soft. He needs Bev here. She would know what to say to Richie. What’s taking her so long, anyways? “This has do be done, Richie. We have to help Eddie, and you know that.”

“It hurts,” Richie says, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. His knees buckle, and he all but collapsed onto the chair. “Just - reading this, seeing all these things I should have noticed years ago.  _ Years  _ ago! Jesus-fuck.” He rubs his hands under his glasses. “What are we going to do?”

“There are plenty of things we can do, Richie,” Ben tries to sound comforting, but he doesn’t know if it’s working. He’s good with people, yes, but this situation is so new to him, so jarring, that he can barely hear himself speaking. The ground is swaying, and everything he does is in slow motion. Too slow. Too slow to help. He shivers. “We have to do this, though, so we can figure out how to help. These kinds of situations aren’t easy to handle, especially from the outside, so the best thing we can do right now is to learn as much as we can. Yeah?”

Richie looks at him, eyes wide, before they fall shut. Ben sees him inhale sharply through his nose. He nods, a small motion you wouldn’t notice unless you were trying to. “Yeah,” Richie agrees, but he doesn’t make any move to continue reading. Ben lets him be. He can’t even fathom how hard this must be for Richie. 

Ben licks his lips and looks down at his book. The conversation grounded him, seeing as if was the first real one of the day. The only other human interaction had been when Beverly had told them both she was going to the bakery and would be back soon with food and drinks. Now, when he looks down at the book, he manages to actually comprehend the words on the page.

_ “ _ _ Responses by the public and professionals can make it more difficult for victims to leave. For example, in one study _ _  the public viewed an assault against an intimate partner as less serious than an assault against a stranger, even when the same level of force was used.” _

He shudders just thinking about how this is a part of Eddie’s everyday worries. How could this be his normal? Eddie was a smart person, so couldn’t he have seen beforehand that the relationship was a bad idea? 

Ben shakes his head. 

No, he’s read enough this morning to know you couldn’t really tell beforehand. A lot of the times, the abuser seems like a saint to those around them. This is a common factor in domestic violence. What goes on behind the curtain, the only people that know are the abuser and the victim. It’s sudden, mostly, Ben knows this much from how much he’s read. The first hit comes out of nowhere. 

Eddie must have tried to get away after the first hit - Ben has known Eddie since he was as fat as a cow, been there through everything, so he knows that Eddie is a lot tougher than he looks. He must have said something when Jake did it the first time, there’s no doubt about it. Research says that the abuser takes extra caution to make sure they don’t get away. They’ll manipulate their minds, convince them that it’s normal, that they love them. Ben shivers.

Richie had just looked at his book again when he groans. Ben looks up at him, concerned. “Can’t we just barge into the house and beat him to a pulp?” 

Ben shakes his head.

“What about when Jake is out on a business trip?” He’s looking at Ben desperately, his eyes wide and pleading behind his glasses. “Can’t we just get him out of there then? Jake will never find him. If he does, we could take him - seven to one. I mean, seriously, Haystack. Come on.”

  
Ben closes his eyes and sighs. He looks at Richie. “Eddie won’t want to leave. It may sound crazy, but he thinks Jake loves him. He feels safe. Well, not _safe,_ perhaps. But he feels loved. The control that Jake has over him - it’s like. Eddie thinks it’s because he loves him. As wrong as it is, he loves Jake. It’ll take some real convincing to get him to leave.”

“Bullshit,” Richie says. “He - he  _ knows  _ it’s wrong!” His eyes are wet, and his leg is bouncing along with his fingers tapping against the table. Ben can tell he’s itching to smoke. “That son of a bitch doesn’t fucking  _ love  _ him!”

“Richie,” Ben says calmly. Richie seems to deflate with one word from Ben. “Even if we can convince him to leave, he most likely still won’t. He’ll be scared, Richie, you know that.”

Richie stares at him with sad eyes. It’s like he’s refusing to believe that this is happening. 

“Jake has manipulated his mind, almost the same way his mother did,” Ben is speaking, but it doesn’t feel like it’s coming from him. It feels like it’s coming from a force deep within him. “In fact, now that I think about it, Jake and Sonia are weirdly alike. The manipulation, the control. It’s common knowledge that Eddie misses his childhood. Everything was so much simpler, even if his mother treated him like garbage. That might have something to do with it. Maybe that’s why he’s stayed as long as he has.”

Richie looks as if he’s thinking deeply, and his head stays down as he talks. “You’re saying that Eddie hasn’t left because Jake is like his mother?” Ben nods. Richie laughs. “No offense, Benny Boy, but I think you’re wrong about this. Mrs. K was a bitch, everyone knows that.  _ Especially  _ Eddie. So why would he want to go back to that?”

Ben shifts in his seat. It all makes sense in his head, but he’s having trouble getting it out properly. “I think…” Ben starts, tapping his fingers on the table in time with Richie. “I think he misses the times when he was, like,  _ really  _ young. His mom wasn’t as bad then - she just cared. A lot.” He moves his fingers as he sees Beverly walking up to the doors with her hands full. He smiles slightly. “I mean, even as he got older, everything she did was because she cared about him. I think maybe he misses having someone care about him so much.”

“I’m not getting you.”

“I’m trying to say I think Jake cares about him,” he runs his hands through his hair as Richie raises his eyebrows. He keeps talking so Richie can’t start. “The same way his mother did, kind of. Except for the attraction, because -” Ben shivers “- you know. That would have been messed up. But he cares about him in a sick way. So much that he’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep Eddie to himself. The same -”

“The same way his mom did,” Richie breaths, and he looks like he finally put it together in his mind. “That must be what’s normal for him, yeah?” He looks at Ben for confirmation. Ben just nods, deciding to let Richie speak. “Like, he grew up in a controlling home for his entire life. It must have felt - oh, I don’t know, weird. Out of place, even, to be free from all of that. Maybe that’s why he gravitated towards Jake.”

Richie speaks in such a soft voice, it strikes Ben in that moment how deep his feelings for Eddie must go. He doesn’t get much time to think about it, though, because Beverly has reached the table. She places the container of food on the table and the drinks next to it. She looks at them. “How’s it going?”

Richie looks up like he just noticed her. Ben wouldn’t be surprised if he had. “Bevvie, you won’t believe it,” he says, eyes tilted up to where Beverly stands. He’s not smiling, but he doesn’t look as miserable as before. Probably because they had actually gotten somewhere. There was hope, now. “Benjamin here just made an astounding discovery.”

She frowned. “Why wouldn’t I believe that?” She makes a move to sit next to Ben, but decides against it and sits next to Richie instead. She mouths ‘sorry’ to him, and he shakes his head. He understands. Bev puts a hand over Richie’s. 

Richie just shrugs. “Tell her, Benthony.”

Well. There’s that, at least. He wasn’t upset to the point where he wasn’t calling them stupid nicknames. Ben tells Beverly about the discovery, although Richie does chime in at points. Bev watches them with wide eyes, her hair falling out of the messy bun in strands and resting on her forehead. Ben notices this with a smile. He forces himself to look away from his girlfriend as he continues talking. “Isn’t that genius?” Richie asks, seemingly genuinely impressed. “Man’s a fucking smartypants, Jesus.”

“He has been using his inhaler more often,” Bev says, looking across the table at Ben thoughtfully. She bites her lip.

“It was just a thought,” Ben says quietly. 

“No, I mean - it definitely makes sense, Ben.” Her eyes are wide and ernest. “It’s either that or Jake’s just a fucking psycho who managed to lure Eddie in somehow.”

“Both are reasonable,” Richie cuts in, his hair bouncing along with the rest of his body. “But can we focus on getting him the fuck out of there?”

  
  
  


Richie goes back to his own house after their study session, which leaves Ben and Beverly alone for the evening. It’s quiet, and awkward, mostly. After what they spent the day doing, neither of them really know what to say.

“I should have known,” Beverly mutters during dinner, where she’s just swirling the meatballs around the bowl.

Ben looks up at her, shocked. His blonde hair is falling into his line of vision, but he can’t be bothered to care right now. “Don’t say that.” He puts a hand on her arm, but she flinches away. Immediately, she looks at him apologetically. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s fine, I understand.”

She didn’t have to say it for Ben to know what the reaction had come from. Beverly had dealt with her own time of abuse, what with her father and then Tom. Tom hadn’t lasted long - maybe a month - before Beverly kicked him in balls and ran off. She was tough, yeah. Of course she was. But she was still sensitive. She had to let the wall down, too, sometimes. Ben was just glad she trusted him enough to let it down when he was around. 

“I really should have noticed,” she says, her voice cracking. Ben, hesitantly, wraps his arms around her. She doesn’t pull away this time. “I just - gosh, poor Eddie. I want to help him.”

“We all do, babe,” he whispers into her strawberry colored hair, his eyes shut tight. Because, yes. Poor Eddie. “It’s going to be just fine, babe.”

“I know what it’s like.” She states, pulling back to look at him. Even with her tears covering her freckled cheeks, she’s still the most beautiful person Ben has ever seen. “I know why he’s stuck around for so long. It’s so hard to leave, it feels like you’re trapped, I just,” she breaks off crying.

“It’ll be okay, Bev,” he says again. “I love you, yeah? I love you a lot.”

She doesn’t stop crying, so Ben doesn’t stop holding her. He just hums softly in her ear and prays that everything will turn out okay. 


	10. "And All That Shit."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan and Bill care about Eddie a lot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to have this chapter up like, five hours ago, but something came up. I feel like the ending was a little rough, but other than that this chapter is pretty good. I think so, anyway. let me know what you think though :) 
> 
> also, I'm leaving to go camping with my grandparents for the fourth of july, so I might update less but I'll still be trying!

Bill Denbrough hadn’t heard from Eddie for nearly a month - none of the losers had, not really. The only that they think might have was Richie, simply because whenever the subject was brought up he was unusually quiet. So it’s a surprise (not an unwelcome one, of course, but still a surprise) when he shows up at the door to Stan Uris’ apartment unawarrented. 

Bill is sitting on the couch, but he most definitely still hears Stan let out a surprised sounding, “Oh, Eddie. Um. Hi.”

Bill Denbrough smiles to himself for a second before he registers what he heard. He shoots up from the couch, almost falling over in his rush to get to the door. Now, Bill loves all of the losers, but he had a soft spot for Eddie. All of the losers did, after what happened with his mom. Even though they all knew he could very well take care of himself, they all still felt the need to watch out for him. Eddie was like a little brother to Bill. He treats him the same way he does Georgie, sans the inappropriate jokes. So when he sees Eddie standing in the doorway, drowning in a sweatshirt and wringing his hands together nervously, he feels a pang in his chest. “Eddie!” He nearly shouts, resting a hand on the wall next to him and grinning at Eddie. 

He doesn’t grin for long. Eddie looks  _ terrible,  _ which is something that usually never happens. Eddie is an attractive guy, don’t get Bill wrong - he even had a crush on him when they were young and he was just discovering his sexuality - but he just… he looks bad. Underneath his red, swollen eyes are bags so dark they made his naturally tan skin look almost pale. He looks small, even smaller than usual, in the sweatshirt. It’s cold outside, and only getting colder, so he’s easily pulling the sleeves over his fisted fingers. He looks up at Bill with wide, dark eyes. Bill just wants to hug him. 

Eddie tries to smile, but it looks almost painful. “Hi, Bill.”

“Where have you been?” He asks, his stutter disappearing as he sweep Eddie into a hug. Eddie buries his face in Bill’s neck and noses softly at the skin there. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

Bill shakes his head. “Duh-Don’t be sorry.”

“I should have called, but I,” Eddie breaks off into a silent cry, and Bill just pulls him closer. 

He sees Stan shift awkwardly from foot to foot, as if trying to find something to say. “I’ll just, um. I’ll make some tea,” he decides on, and smiles softly at Bill. Bill smiles back, and Stan gives him a look he immediately reads as, ‘Get him to couch and let him calm down.’ He nods and makes way to the couch. He puts Eddie gently on the couch while he cries, his eyes shut and hands rubbing circles on his stomach. 

He enters the kitchen quietly, and Stan doesn’t even turn around before he starts talking. “He looks like shit.”

“Yeah,”

“And skinny. Really skinny.” He turns around so his back is against the counter. He doesn’t smile. 

Bill nods. “Yeah.” 

Even like this, with a frown on his face and his curls flattened against his head, he’s still easily the most beautiful person Bill has ever seen. His features are almost angelic, with long eyelashes and thin, pink, kissable lips. His skin is smooth and clean, just like the rest of him. Bill swoons. 

“What are we going to do?” Stan asks him, and his voice is so genuinely concerned that Bill can’t help but lean down and kiss him softly on the forehead. Stan just leans into it. 

Bill pulls back and smiles at Stan, hopefully easing his worries. Stan looks like he’s maybe calmed down a bit, but the worry is still there in his eyes. “We sh-should p-probably just let him calm duh-down for a little while, yeah?” Stan nods, closing his eyes. Bill rests their foreheads together. “Then hopefully he’ll t-talk to us.”

“I’ve been worried about him,” Stan says in a defensive voice. Bill rubs circles on his back. “I know I always act nonchalant about everything, but. I love you guys, you know that?”

“I know.”

“I worry.”

“I know.”

Stan shakes his head. Bill is beginning to be worried, because he’s never really seen Stan like this. He looks dishevelled, his collared shirt sticking up at the collar and his hair is anything but neat. Seeing Eddie like that must have really gotten to him. “I juh-just wonder why he didn’t g-go to Richie. They’re puh-pretty close.”

He feels Stan stiffen underneath him. “You don’t -” Stan shakes his head, his dirty blonde curls bouncing. “What if this is Richie’s fault?”

Bill clenches his jaw. “I swuh-swear, if Richie d-did suh-something tuh-to him. I’ll kuh-hill him, I swuh-swear to Gug-God I will.” The idea of anyone hurting Eddie at all made his his head pound. If it was Richie, who seemingly cared for Eddie so much - he didn’t know what he would do, but killing him was probably pretty close. He can’t imagine him physically hurting Eddie, because as tough as Richie seems on the outside, he could never physically hurt someone, not unless he had a good enough reason to. But he could take his teasing too far, especially when he was teasing Eddie. If he said anything that set Eddie off like this, he was going to pay. 

“What…” Stan starts, but he trails off. He looks up at Bill, his eyes wide. Bill kind of wants to kiss him, but he pushes the thought away. For now, at least. “What if something happened  _ to  _ Richie?” 

And, yeah. That makes sense. Of course Eddie would be upset if something happened to Richie, the two we obsessed with each other. He had thought they were in a secret relationship, but then Eddie had gotten a boyfriend. Bill was still confused about that. 

Stan is shaking beneath him. “What if something happened to Richie?” He sounds like maybe he’s crying, but Bill knows he’s not. It takes a lot to make Stan cry. He’s only seen Stan cry once, when he woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare about a clown and some dead kids. Bill shakes his head. “What if something happened to him, and the last thing I said to him was ‘Fuck off’? I’m always so rude to him, but I - I love Richie like a brother.”

“Hey,” Bill brings a hand to the back of Stan’s neck and looks into his eyes, “I’m sure Richie is fine. Thuh-Thinking rationally, if suh-something d-did happen to him, Eddie wouldn’t have l-left his side. You nuh- _ know  _ how they are with each other. Just stuh-stay c-calm. For Eddie.” 

Stan nods, and Bill reaches down again to kiss him on the lips softly. Stan hums against his lips, and when they pull apart, he looks much better. Bill touches his lips to his forehead. “How long do you think it’ll take him to calm down?”

Bill giggles, never moving his mouth from Stan’s smooth skin. “It’s Eh-Eddie. How l-long duh-do you th-think it’ll tuh-take?” 

Stan lets a breathless laugh. He doesn’t pull away from Bill. 

* * *

 

Eddie really does look skinny. Jake’s or Richie’s or even Bill’s clothes always hang off of him, but now it just looks unnatural. His face is gaunt, the skin stretched across his bones as he looks up at Bill. Bill tries not to vomit as he looked at Eddie. He just smiles and sits on the couch opposite him. 

Stan stands next to Eddie for a moment, frowning as he studies his features. “Do you need a blanket, or anything?” He asks as he hands Eddie the cup of tea. Eddie contemplates the question before nodding and looking back at the black TV screen with a blank expression. 

“You okay?” Bill asks, just so it’s not as quiet anymore. 

He knew it was a stupid question before he asked it, but the look Eddie gives him - the raised eyebrows, his eyes showing the tiniest bit of amusement - makes him feel worse. The vomiting feeling comes back again. Eddie shrugs after a few seconds, and looks back at the TV. Bill wonders what he’s thinking about, if he’s thinking about anything at all. 

Stan comes back into the room with a fluffy blanket and hands it to Eddie, who looks grateful. He covers his body with it and sighs, leaning against the armrest. He tucks his feet underneath his body, successfully making himself into a small cocoon. Stan sits next to Bill - not too close, but close enough so that he can comfort Bill if he needs to. Bill is grateful that Stan knows him so well. 

Stan leans back in the seat, his curls dangling softly on his forehead. Bill realizes he uses that word to describe a lot of things about Stan -  _ soft.  _ But it’s so accurate, because everything about Stan is soft, soft, soft. Everything but his sarcastically witty personality, but even that can sometimes turn soft when Bill is around. Bill thinks maybe he loves Stan, maybe he has for years, but he was simply to much of an idiot to notice. At least he does now. 

Stanley Uris is the best thing that’s ever happened to Bill, maybe having a tight race with the time the cops came up to the front door with Georgie standing next to him, safe, yes, but most likely forever traumatized by his months alone in the woods. But Stan - Stan is something he would never have thought would happen. He knew George was alive, knew it somewhere deep in his heart. He never thought he would be with Stan like this. Yeah, okay, maybe it had been Stan’s soft face and impeccable angles and witty smile that had made Bill realize he was into guys. Maybe he thought about kissing Stan a lot (a  _ lot _ ) in the past few years, but feelings had never been a part of it. Or maybe they had, he’s just never realized. 

But now, with Stan sitting next to him with a concerned face, now there were definitely feelings. He loved kissing Stan, obviously, but he loved listening to Stan talk about his birds, and he loved watching birds with Stan, laying in the grass in the morning with an Stan’s extra pair of binoculars. He loved watching Stan play with Georgie, when he got this big grin on his face as the younger of the two laughed with him. He loved  _ Stan _ , and God, he had no idea what to do about it. 

“I’m sorry,” says Eddie for the second time that night, snapping Bill out of his thoughts. Eddie looks so genuine saying this, Bill feels something deep in his stomach. He thinks maybe it’s guilt, but he can’t really think of a good reason he would be guilty. Maybe because, while Bill and Stan had been having the best month of their lives together, Eddie was having the worst of his alone. 

“Don’t be sorry.” Stan frowns as he says it, looking at Eddie seriously. 

Eddie looks at them, his eyes wet with a mixture of new and old tears. “I shouldn’t have interrupted you guys. Not for my own petty problems, anyway.”

Bill raises his eyebrows. “No offense, Eddie, but if you wuh-were crying like thuh-that over some p-p-petty p-problems, then I think maybe you ruh-really are as druh-ruh-matic as everyone has been t-telling me.”

“I can second that,” Stan says with a small smile. It doesn’t drop when he looks at Eddie. He can see Eddie’s shoulders visibly relax. “But really, can you tell us what happened?”

Eddie takes in a sharp breath, and Bill wonders briefly if he brought his inhaler with him. He knows Eddie doesn’t need it, not really, but no one can calm him down like Richie does, and, well. Richie isn’t here. When Eddie doesn’t make any move to speak up, Bill decides to step in. “We want to h-help you, Eddie, but we can’t duh-do that if you don’t t-talk to us.”

Eddie messes with his jacket sleeve as if he’s thinking about what to say. He can tell Eddie doesn’t  want to talk, but Bill figures he needs to. If something happened that made him cry like that, he needs to tell someone about it. They sit there for a moment or two, Stan and Bill watching Eddie avoid their eyes and mess with the sleeve of the jacket.  _ Richie’s jacket, _ his mind provides. He smiles. 

“Jake got a job offer.”

And that was, well, not what he had been expecting. He looks over at Stan, who’s looking at Eddie with his brows pulled together. Why would Eddie be so upset about that? That was a good thing, wasn’t it?

“In Texas.”

Bill sees Stan raise his eyebrows at that. Bill’s stomach drops. “Is he guh-going to t-take it?” He looks at Eddie carefully when he says it. 

Eddie nods. He doesn’t look at them. 

“Are you going with him?” Stan asks, and Eddie - he laughs. 

He finally looks up at them, a smile on his face, but his eyes are filled with dread. “Do I have a choice?” He asks, his voice sounding small, too quiet in the house. 

“Eh-Eh-Eddie,” Bill can feel his stutter getting worse as the conversation goes on. It’s no surprise, really, because it always gets bad when he’s he stressed. Or upset. Or  _ confused.  _ “Of cuh-course you h-have a chuh-chuh-ch-  _ fuck _ !”

“Of course you have a choice,” Stan says. Bill looks over at him gratefully. “It’s your life, Eddie.”

Eddie looks like he wants to believe them, but he shakes his head. “Not really,” he admits quietly. He’s gone back to the jacket sleeve. “Not anymore.”

This makes Stan and Bill more confused, turning to look at one another, as if hoping one of them will know what to say. Eddie beats them to it. “I mean, was it ever? It was my life, yeah, for the first year of college. But between my mother and - and  _ Jake,  _ is it really my life?”

Something seems to click in Stan’s mind at those words. He gets up to go sit next to Eddie, putting a hand on his forearm. It seems like he’s thinking hard about what to say, because he’s quiet for a moment, just looking at Eddie with a strange look on his face. “Eddie,” he says softly. Eddie doesn’t look at him, just squeezes his eyes shut. “When was the last time you ate?”

This gets Stan two confused looks - one from Bill, because where the hell did that come from? and one from Eddie, who looks more surprised than confused. He shakes his head and looks away. 

“We leave after Thanksgiving,” he says instead, looking at the wall like there’s something interesting on it. There’s not, Bill notices. Just paint. 

“That’s a month,” Stan says, and he looks over at Bill with wide eyes. 

Bill doesn’t understand what Stan is trying to tell him, so he looks at Eddie instead. “What the hell is in Tuh- _ Texas  _ that he cuh-can’t do here?” 

Eddie shrugs. Stan rubs his hands over his face. Bill sighs. 

It seems that Eddie is done talking. For now, at least. Stan leads him down the hall to his guest bedroom, telling him he needs to get some rest. As soon as he’s back, Bill jumps up to talk to him. “You ob-obviously got something out of thuh-that.”

Stan looks at him with his eyebrows raised. His dark eyes are staring at Bill, making his stomach churn. Bill pleads with his eyes, because, God dammit, he just wants to know what’s wrong with Eddie. Stan’s eyes soften. “I don’t think Jake treats him right.”

“What is that supposed to m-mean?”

“Like, you know,” Stan waves his hands in the air and looks at Bill with sadness in his eyes. “Domestic violence, and all that shit.”

Bill’s eyes go wide. “Luh-like -” He shakes his head. “You thuh-think J-Jake hits h-him?”

“I mean,” Stan looks away from Bill and shrugs, his eyes downcast. “Maybe?” 

“Well, shit,” says Bill. He looks at the staircase, wanting to hug Eddie. But no. Eddie was smart, he wouldn’t - he couldn’t have gotten himself into that. He tells Stan this. 

“Do you know anything about domestic violence?”

Bill shakes his head. “Nuh-not really.”

“Jesus,” Stan rubs his hands over his face. “We need Mike. Eddie looks up to Mike, he’ll listen to him. Plus Mike is, like, good with people and all that shit.”

“Yeah,” Bill legs are like jello, so he sits down on the couch and closes his eyes. “And all that shit.”


	11. "You Messed Up."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake, Jake, and more Jake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning: this chapter is pretty short, and it kind of sucks, but I had to get it out there. it's important, but it was very hard to write. 
> 
> also, two chapters in one day? like what? at least I think so, but my days are kind of blurring together now that summer has started. so maybe not. but I think so. 
> 
> let me know what you think? comments are really appreciated, I love hearing what you guys think :)

When Jake Phillips was in seventh grade, he heard a bang from the downstairs of his house. It was two in the morning on a Sunday night ( _ Monday morning, actually, _ his best friend Heidi would have told him with a dorky smile, pushing up her glasses. Jake would have punched her lightly on the arm and laughed). He sat up, looking around his dimly lit up room. He’s always had a problem with the dark, never wanting to be alone where he couldn’t see his own hand in the air. 

He pushes himself off of his mattress and opens the door slowly, trying not to let it creak. He can hear his father yelling, and the faint sounds of someone crying. He looks to his left and sees his younger sister, Jenna, hugging herself around the stomach and looking up at him with wide eyes. He shakes his head, motioning for her to go back into her room. When she’s disappeared behind the door, he steps halfway down the steps until he can hear more clearly what his father is saying. 

“Are you a fucking  _ idiot _ ?” Jake flinches back at the loudness of his father’s voice. 

He strains to hear what comes next, but his mother is speaking so quietly he doesn’t hear anything for a few seconds. A loud smacking sound can be heard. 

“You will  _ not  _ speak to me like that,” his father growls, his voice quieter but loud enough that Jake can still hear him, and fierce enough his mother seems to shut her mouth. 

Jake just goes back up to his room and ignores the look Jenna gives him. 

* * *

  
  


This goes on for a month before Jake is simply too confused to  _ not  _ ask.

“Dad?” He approaches his father quietly, not wanting to anger him. 

He looks away from the TV, his eyes landing on Jake. 

Jake shifts from foot to foot. He doesn’t really know how to word it, but he can’t find anything. He decides you just ask bluntly: “Why do you hurt Mom?” 

His father looks unfazed by the question. He shrugs. “She messes up,” he says, looking back at the TV. “Sometimes I have to teach her a lesson.”

Jake figures the conversation is over, but there’s one more thing he needs to know. “Do you love her?”  
The look he gets in return makes something deep in his stomach churn. “Yeah,” he says after a pregnant pause. “Of course I love her.”

And that, Jake decides as his father trains his eyes back to the television, is a good enough answer.

* * *

 

“Your parents are nice to each other,” Jack points out to Heidi after school one day during their freshman year of highschool. They’re sitting in her room, Jake on the floor and Heidi on the bed. 

Heidi is laying on her back, her head touching the floor and her glasses slipping down her nose. She looks at him with her her eyebrows pulled together. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, they are.”

* * *

 

In their senior year of highschool, Heidi confessed her feelings towards Jake and they started dating. A few months in, he ended up waiting outside of the school for an extra hour while Heidi sat in detention. He doesn’t even want to know what she did - all he can focus on is the anger boiling in his stomach. 

When he sees her figure stepping down the school steps, he stubs out his cigarette and gets into the front seat of his truck. She gets in with this big, dorky smile, immediately reaching forward to turn up the volume on the radio. Jake clenches his jaw. 

Does she not realize how much she’s messed up? She made a mistake, and Jake was going to have to teach her a lesson. He knows this; she should know it, too. 

“Mr. Cooper was doing detention today,” she says, looking out the window. “What an absolute fucking nightmare.” 

Jake hums. He speeds all the way to his house. 

When he pulls up, he’s glad to see that the driveway is empty - his parents are out. 

“No, but really,” Heidi is saying, kicking her shoes off at the door. “It was me and that weird Mike kids - the emo one, you know?” Jake nods. “Okay, well, I was sitting on the opposite side of the room, and I could  _ still  _ hear him complaining under his breath. It was crazy. Also, Mr. Cooper kept like, asking me about my family and all this other random shit.” She shakes her head and giggles. “I hate talking to people. Stresses me out, you know?”

She pushes her glasses up her nose and looks at him when he stays quiet. “Jake? You okay?”

Jake turns to look at her and raises his eyebrows. “You made a mistake,” he says, Heidi looks amused before something dawns on her. 

“This isn’t about your parents, is it?” Her voice is soft suddenly, and she reaches out to touch his arm. He tugs it away from her.

“I - I have to teach you a lesson,” he says, his voice shaking as he looks at her with wide eyes. “You  _ messed up. _ ”

“Jake,” she whispers, her eyes pleading with him. “Please, just… can we talk about this?”

He slaps her across the face, and she takes a few steps back. She looks up at him. Jake’s grown a lot since their freshman year,  now standing at 6 foot, muscular from playing on the football team. He towers over her. They’re both crying now, Heidi more than Jake, and he grabs her wrist forcefully. 

When it’s all over, Jake sits next to her on the bed and holds her hand. “I love you,” he tells her. 

She nods, sighs. “Love you, too,” she says softly.

* * *

  
  


Heidi spends the next year of her life trying to get Jake to go to therapy - each time, he teaches her a lesson. She leaves him eventually, crying and saying she can’t do it anymore. Jake doesn’t know how to handle himself, so he stays home for a month.

* * *

  
  


When Jake first sees Eddie, he stares at him for nearly a full hour. He knew he was into guys, he always has been. But this boy behind the counter of the restaurant - he’s easily the most beautiful person Jake has ever seen. 

He’s small, not weirdly small but short enough to be cute. He’s skinny, too, making him appear even smaller as he smiles sweetly at the woman seated at the table he’s serving. His eyes are wide, a dark brown, and even from here he can see the freckles dusted across his tan cheeks. 

Jake knows right away that he has to have him.

The next time he goes there to eat, he makes sure he’s sitting in the boy’s area. 

* * *

  
  


Eddie isn’t nearly as perfect as he looks to be on the outside. He has to teach Eddie many more lessons than he ever had to teach Heidi, but he knows it’s worth it every time he has Eddie arching up underneath him in their bed. Or every time he finally gets something to click in Eddie’s brain. 

He loves Eddie, he really does. Which is why he hates that fucking Tozier boy so much.

Richie Tozier reminds Jake of Heidi in so many ways he can hardly count. Her glasses weren’t needed as  _ much  _ as Richie’s, but they framed both of their faces in the same way. They both had awful tastes in music, and clothes, and word choices. And they both had fallen in love with their best friend.

Yeah. That’s right - Jake sees the way Richie looks at Eddie, and he can recognize it as the same way Heidi looked at him for years. It’s so painfully obvious. He’s just afraid that maybe Eddie will love him back at some point. It had happened to Jake, so why wouldn’t it happen to Eddie as well?

So when Jake got the job offer to work in Texas, he took it without second thought. Eddie would come with him, he didn’t have a choice, and they would live together for the rest of their lives. Maybe one day, Eddie would finally have learned all of his lessons and they can live a life where lessons aren’t needed. 

He loved Eddie, he really did. He wanted to have him all to himself. He wanted a perfect Eddie, in a perfect world, where the two of them could be happily in love. 


	12. "I Want to Go Home!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Eddie talk, it gets emotional.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you everyone for your continuous support for me and this story! all of your comments make my day and everything you say goes straight to my heart! and my ego, too, so don't be too nice haha.
> 
> things are like, REALLY, starting to take action now. I hope y'all are ready.
> 
> another thing, when I've uploaded stuff before sometimes people will say that I make my characters say 'y'all' a lot even though they live in Maine or the UK, but like, I can't help it guys haha. I'm from Texas, so whenever I see that I've written I always kind of look at it for like, a minute, and wonder how to change it. proper grammer sounds so weird to me, y'all. the struggle UGH
> 
> anyways, enjoy and let me know what you think :)

Mike Hanlon is only slightly worried that Richie hasn’t come back to their shared apartment since he left to go shopping that morning. Richie does this a lot - leaves, doesn’t come back, doesn’t call, and then shows up a few days later and acts like nothing ever happened. 

This doesn’t bother Mike, not really. He knows Richie’s got some stuff that he needs to get away from every once in a while. That’s okay - it really is. Mike gets it. 

His worry goes up by 75%, at least, when Stanley Uris calls him at 2 PM on a Tuesday. “Tozier-Hanlon residence, this is Mike Hanlon speaking,” he says into the phone - a line he and Richie came up with when they first moved in with each other, a line they practiced often, and a line that only Mike uses. 

“It’s Stan.”

Mike raises his eyebrows. “Hey, Stan. What’s up?”

“It’s about Eddie,” he says, wasting no time in easing his way in. “Can you get over to Bill’s as soon as possible?”

“Bill’s?”

“Can you?”

Sighing, Mike agrees and tells Stan he’ll be there in ten minutes. He can hear the relief in Stan’s voice when he says goodbye. 

The car ride to Bill’s feels longer than it actually is. He spends it biting his nails and thinking about everything that could have happened. Stan had said it was about Eddie, which, okay. That doesn’t really help Mike with anything. When Stan had sounded worried he’s figured it was about Eddie, who’s been MIA with all of the losers except for Richie for the last month. Mike’s heard Richie and Eddie’s conversation’s, but they’ve only made him more confused. They were always brief, always the same questions: “How are you?” and “How are things with Jake?”

Mike thinks maybe Jake and Eddie got in argument and it upset Eddie. It makes sense, right? It’s a reasonable explanation, the only one he was able to pull from Richie’s conversations with Eddie, because Richie always walked away from the phone and pretended like nothing had happened when they were done talking. 

_ “Was that Eddie?” Mike asks after the third phone call, eyes moving from the TV screen to where Richie stands. Richie turns to look at him with a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.  _

_ “Yeah,” he says, leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom. “Yeah, that was m’Eds. Why?” _

_ Mike doesn’t miss the way Richie calls Eddie ‘m’Eds’, which is a shorter version of ‘My Eds’, which he also used to call Eddie, even when the smaller boy wasn’t around. He thinks about asking Richie about that, instead, because it’s been bothering him for years, but he sticks with his initial intention. “Is he okay?” _

_ “Yeah,” Richie responds quickly - too quickly. “He’s good.” _

_ “Having relationship problems?”  _

_ Richie stops smiling at this, and looks over his shoulder at his bedroom. He doesn’t look back at Mike when he says, “Something like that,” and disappears into his room.  _

The conversations happened daily. Same questions, same occasional whispered “Eds,” from Richie. Same sad Richie walking back to his room without saying a word, and not emerging until breakfast the next day. Richie had even stopped leaving to go who knows where for a day or two, in order to keep in touch with Eddie. 

_ “You love him?” Mike asks on the eleventh day, because it has to be done.  _

_ Richie looks at him with his eyebrows pulled together. The ‘who?’ goes unsaid as Mike nods his head to the phone on the wall. Richie doesn’t move his facial expression. Not that Mike had expected him to. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “We all do, Mike.” _

_ “Yeah, but -” Mike doesn’t know how to say it. “You  _ love  _ him.” _

_ Mike can tell Richie knows what he means, can see it in the way his eyes soften around the edges. Richie looks at his mismatched socks, and sighs. “We all do,” he says again, and walks out of sight. _

_ And, well, that’s enough confirmation for Mike.  _

The door opens before Mike ever gets the chance to knock, revealing a very  _ not  _ Stan looking Stanley Uris. Bill Denbrough stands behind him, offering Mike a small smile and wave. Mike doesn’t smile back, just looks down at Stan. “What’s going on?” 

Before Stan can tumble into an explanation right there at the front door, Bill cuts in. “Cuh-come in, Mike,” he says, putting a hand on Stan’s shoulder and pulling him gently out of the way so Mike can step in. “Stan can stuh-start talking while I guh-get you something t-to drink.” 

Mike nods and goes into the living room with Stan. He sits across from Stan and looks at him, waiting. 

“Eddie showed up here this morning,” Stan starts with, wringing his hands together nervously. “He, um - he looked like shit, basically. He started crying, so I made him some tea and let him sit on the couch for a while until he was ready to talk.” Stan pauses and looks up at Mike through his eyelashes. Mike notices with a drop in his stomach that Stan is crying. “He’s…” Stan sniffles and wipes at his eyes as Bill come in. He sits next to Stan and places a hand on his thigh in a comforting manner. “He’s so  _ skinny _ , Mike, I - I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“Eddie’s always been skinny, though,” he says with a small frown. 

“He’s ruh- _ really  _ skinny now, though,” Bill supplies. “You can see him l-later.”

“He’s here?”

Stan nods. “He’s sleeping in the guest bedroom,” he says, and looks back at the hallway as if expecting Eddie to walk out any second now. “He’s moving.”

“Moving?”

“Yeah, to Texas,” Stan looks back at Mike with sad eyes. 

“Juh-Jake got a job offer,” Bill adds, rubbing his thumb on Stan’s knee. 

“They leave after Thanksgiving.”

Mike blinks. “That’s, uh. That’s soon.”

The look Stan him sends shivers down Mike’s back. “There’s something else we think is going on,” he says. Mike raises his eyebrows. “We think Jake is abusive.”

Mike is silent for a moment or two, staring at Bill’s hand touching Stan in deep thought. Eventually, he shrugs. “That makes sense.”

“It makes sense?” 

“Yeah, I mean,” Mike stands up and walks over to the wall, then to the other wall. His mind is reeling. “Richie’s been talking to him for a month now over the phone. It’s weird conversations, too. Not like normal weird, though,” he adds when he sees Bill opening his mouth. “Weird even for them. It always starts with Richie asking how Eddie is, which he usually doesn’t do. He always just assumes you’re okay until you start acting weird, you know?” They both nod. “Then he asks how things with Jake are going. Which, it all makes sense now.” He stops pacing and sits back down in his chair, sighing. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize.”

“It’s nuh-not your fault, M-Mike,” Bill says at the same time Stan exclaims, “Richie knew this whole time?!”

“Yeah, but that’s not important right now,” Mike says, rubbing his hands over his face. “Can I see Eddie?”

Bill goes to retrieve Eddie while Stan stays on the couch, fuming. 

This whole situation should be a surprise to Mike, but it’s really not. He figures maybe he always knew, had all the information, like it was a test question he couldn’t figure out but kicks himself when someone finally brings it to his attention. Mike feels like he needs to kick himself, because it all makes sense. The phone calls, the way Eddie always acted a little different when Jake was around, how he always freaked out when he was late getting home. Even the  _ curfew  _ to get home. 

Mike hears two pairs of feet padding down the hall, and when he looks up he forgets to breathe for a second. Stan wasn’t kidding when he said Eddie was even skinny. When he lifts a small fist up to wipe at his sleepy eyes, Mike can see the bones protruding from his wrist. He feels a little like vomiting. When he drops his arm to his side again, the sleeves of the sweatshirt he’s wearing falls past his hand. He’s wearing a pair of shorts that Mike can assume are probably Stan’s (though he has no idea what they’re doing at Bill’s house), even if they're rolled up at the waist four times and still sag low on his hips. His knee bones are sticking out in places they shouldn’t be, and Mike swears he could probably wrap both of his hands easily around one of Eddie’s thighs. 

Eddie falters when he sees Mike. “You called  _ Mike _ ?” He asks Bill quietly, but Mike can still hear him. He would be offended under different circumstances. 

“Yuh-you wouldn’t talk t-to  _ us _ , so.”

Eddie looks mad at this. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope,” Stan says from the couch. Mike gives him a look.

“What makes you think I want to talk at all?” Eddie asks, putting his hands on his hip. The sweatshirt bundles under his hand. 

“Well, you’re going to,” Stan says, turning to look Eddie in the eyes. “You show up here crying your eyes out, and you think we’re just going to let you go without a little explaining?”

Eddie huffs and stalks over to Mike and sits on the opposite side of the couch. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at them all expectantly. “Well?”

Mike looks over at Stan and Bill, and they gesture for him to go on. “Stan and Bill tell me you and Jake are moving to Texas,” he starts with. Eddie’s angry expression falls into something that looks a lot like sorrow. He nods. Mike figures he’s not going to get anything out of Eddie without asking specifics, so that’s exactly what he does. “Is Jake forcing you to go with him?”

Mike can see the way Eddie flinches at the question. He holds his breath as he waits for an answer. Eddie just looks at him though, with large, pleading eyes. He flickers them to Stan and Bill, who’re watching intently. Mike nods and looks at them. “Could you guys give us some privacy?” He asks.

Bill nods immediately, but Stan looks hesitant. Bill grabs Stan’s hand and pulls him into the kitchen. 

Mike looks back to Eddie. “Well?” He asks. “Is he?”

Eddie swallows. “I mean,” his voice is quiet, so Mike has to strain his ears to hear him properly. “He didn’t force me to. He just kind of assumed I wanted to, I guess.”

“Do you?” Eddie looks at him, confused. “Want to, I mean.”

“No,” Eddie pulls at his sleeves as he says it.

“Why not?”  
Eddie shrugs and looks away. “I would miss you guys,” Eddie says, looking over his shoulder to meet Mike’s eyes. “We’ve never really been apart.”

Mike knows that this is probably true. Of course it is. But he knows that’s not all. “Does Jake… hurt you, Eddie?”

Eddie closes his eyes. Shakes his head. 

“Eddie.”

When Eddie opens his eyes, Mike sees the wetness in them. Eddie nods. 

“Can you tell me what he does?” Mike asks gently, reaching forward to put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, but he flinches away from the touch. 

Eddie is quiet for a minute or two, but he doesn’t show any signs of denying, so Mike waits for him. Eventually, Eddie starts talking. “He didn’t always do it, you know?” He looks at Mike with wide eyes, like he’s asking Mike to understand something he doesn’t really want to explain. “And.. when he started, it was because he loved me. He still loves me - I  _ know  _ it, Mike. He has to.” 

“It’s okay,” Mike whispers. It’s not, not really. But Eddie’s gone pale all of sudden, and he looks like he’s going to vomit, and Mike just wants him to be okay. That’s all, really. 

Eddie’s foot bounces on the ground. “Sometimes I make mistakes. Everyone does.” His voice sounds heavy now, like he’s going to cry. Mike is surprised that he isn’t already. “Jake just wants me to improve myself. He knows I struggle with that, though, so -” He gasps for air “- so he  _ helps  _ me. That’s all he does - he helps me not to make mistakes anymore.”

“But he does that by hurting you?”

Eddie nods, looking at his feet. 

“This is going to sound weird,” Mike warns, standing up and gesturing for Eddie to do the same. He does, on wobbly legs. “Can you take your shirt off for me?”

“What?!” 

“Eddie, please,” Mike pleads with him. “I just - I want to see the damage.”

Eddie shakes his head, gripping the front of his shirt like he thinks Mike is going to force it off of him. Mike feels the floor swaying underneath his feet as he thinks about what Jake could possibly have done to him throughout their relationship to make Eddie so skittish. 

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on,” Make says calmly.

“I’ve told you what’s going on,” Eddie snaps in response, his hand curling into a tighter fist around the fabric of the jacket.   
Mike takes a step towards Eddie. Eddie doesn’t move away, so he figures it’s okay to reach out to him. He puts his hands on his shoulders and bends down to his level. “Eddie, I want to help you,” Mike squeezes his shoulders softly. Eddie flinches. “Can you please just do this for me?” Eddie continues to stare at him, his lips shaking from the effort to hold back the tears. “Everyone is worried. I need to know the extent of what’s going on.” Eddie looks away. “Please?”

Finally, Eddie steps away from Jake. With shaky hands, he reaches for the bottom of the sweatshirt and pulls it over his head. When it’s off, he leaves it hanging in his hand. He looks anywhere but at Mike. 

Mike can see Eddie’s ribs. Not to the point where he could count them, but he can see them. Eddie has always been skinny, but this - this is different. He’s lost twenty pounds at the  _ least  _ since Mike saw him last. His skin is pulled tight over his hip bones, where there’s a splattering of purple bruises from the side of his hip to his bellybutton. There’s one of his arm too, where it connects to the shoulder. When he asks Eddie softly to turn around, he sees two more on both of his shoulder blades. Not for the first time, he feels sick. 

When Eddie has his shirt back on, Mike sighs. “When did that happen?”

“Two days ago,” Eddie answers easily, like he’s been counting. 

“When was the last time you ate?”

The heavy silence that follows makes Mike sit down. Eddie does the same next to him.

“This morning.”

“Bullshit.”

Eddie is quiet again. “Two days ago,” he answers after a little while, and Mike can tell he’s crying now. Mike thinks he is, too, but he doesn’t really want to check and see. 

“Eddie,” Mike whispers. 

Eddie’s shoulder’s shake as he cries. “I want to go home,” he manages to get out. “I want to go home, Mike!” 

“To Jake, you mean?” Mike asks with a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He’s relieved when Eddie shakes his head frantically. “I - I want to go back to Derry,” he says, looking at Mike, begging him to understand. “I want to be young again. I want to go to the barrens, and the quarry, and -” he breaks off into a heartbreaking sob. “I want to go  _ home. _ ”

Mike wants Eddie to go home, too. If it means he’s happy - Mike would take Eddie anywhere that would make him stop crying so hard. “I can’t do that,” he says sadly. “I really wish I could, but I can’t do that.”

Eddie cries some more. Mike’s heart breaks a little. 

“Is there anywhere else?” He asks softly. This time, Eddie doesn’t move away when Mike touches his shoulder. “I can help you if you me somewhere else. I  _ want  _ to help you.”

Eddie looks at him, his cheeks when with tears that fall onto his hollow cheeks. He sniffles and wipes at his nose with his jacket sleeve. His dark eyes look at Mike with something he can’t quite pinpoint as he asks, “Can you take me to Richie?”


	13. "Yeah, I Got Him."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the losers all finally get together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long, I've been on vacation and I'm also having writers block right now. I hope it's okay though! let me know what y'all think :)

Stanley Uris never thought he could love someone romantically, not really. He’d never felt a romantic kind of love, only the kind of love he felt for the losers for most of his life. Yes, he knew he liked Bill - he’s known since he was about 15. He didn’t think he would ever  _ love  _ him, though. The idea was scary.

Which is why he’s terrified for more reasons than one as the four of them (Mike, Eddie, Stan, and Bill) stumble hurriedly into Mike’s car. Stan sits in the front with Mike so that Bill can help Eddie stay calm. As Stan looks in the backseat to find Eddie sticking his face in Bill’s shoulder as Bill whispers to him, all he can think about is the feeling in the pit of his stomach that he’s been avoiding thinking about for the past month. Now, though, he can’t seem to get rid of it. It’s not like the feeling is unpleasant, exactly. It feels like his heart is bursting in a good way where all he wants to do is hold Bill and kiss Bill and  _ love Bill.  _

It scares the shit out of him. 

He feels uncomfortable, now, as he sits in the passenger's seat of Mike’s truck. He was still wearing his pajamas even though it’s nearly three in the afternoon, and he hates it. He needs to brush his hair, fix the mess of his curls. He needs to put on one of his fucking button up shirts, because he keeps tugging at the hem of his too big tee. He doesn’t feel right, wearing night clothes during the day, when there are thousands of people roaming the streets because he lives in fucking  _ New York.  _ He needs to be clean, right about now.

“Are you sure he’s there?” Stan asks Mike, not looking at him because he can’t look at anyone right now - not when he looks like this. 

Mike looks at him incredulously. “Of course he is,” he answers softly. 

“But you said he didn’t come home yesterday.”

“I called the house, Stan. He’s there, okay?”

Stan nods and closes his eyes. He sits up straighter. His back is killing him. 

It feels like they’ve been sitting in the car for hours, but he knows rationally it’s only been five minutes. He’s been watching the clock nonstop since they first got in. He starts to bounce his leg. He stops. That’s a bad habit. Sitting still and straight and quiet and nice and proper is what matters. He’ll just have to deal with the nervous energy some other way. 

“I just - I feel like maybe he’s with Beverly.”

Stan still doesn’t look away from the window, but he can  _ feel  _ Mike rolling his eyes. “And why would you think that?” He asks, turning on his right blinker. They’re pulling up the apartment complex. 

“It’s Richie,” Stan answers with, because that’s a reasonable explanation.

Mike hums. “You’re right. It’s Richie.” They park. Mike turns in his seat to look at Stan as Bill gets out of the way of Eddie as he scrambles out of the car at lightning speed. “And I told him this is about Eddie. Do you really think he would lie about his location?” Stan looks over at Mike. “Also, if you’re forgetting, I called the phone in our  _ apartment.  _ And  _ Richie  _ answered.”

Mike is right. Of course he is. “Sorry,” Stan sighs, putting his hand on the door handle. “I’m just - this whole situations is freaking me out.”

Mike shakes his head, opening his own door. “Don’t be sorry.”

Stan nods, and they both get out of the car. 

He feels his stomach drop at the sight of Eddie waiting impatiently outside of the door of the complex, bouncing his legs and trying the door handle. “I’m coming,” Mike shouts to him, and he breaks into a small jog. When he reaches the door he unlocks it, and Eddie is the first through, the rest of them trailing not too far behind. 

The elevator is broken, so they have to take the stairs. Eddie practically runs up them, struggling to take two steps at a time with his short legs. He manages, though. Thankfully Mike and Richie’s apartment is only on the third floor, because Stan is not one for exercise. He can feel his legs burning. 

When they reach the third floor, Eddie stops suddenly, causing Bill to run into him. Mike grabs onto the back of his shirt so they don’t fall to the floor. “What is it?” Stan asks, breathing heavier than he should be. His face flushes. 

“What if he doesn’t want to see me?” Eddie asks quietly. Stan would roll his eyes at the stupidity of the question if he wasn’t aware of what Eddie was going through. Eddie waves his hands around in the air. “I mean - I don’t talk to him for a month. Not  _ really,  _ anyway. And now I just show up?”

“Shut up, Eh-Eddie,” Bill says, almost fondly. “Thuh-This is Richie we’re tuh-talking about.”

“Yeah,” Mike agrees. “When I told him you wanted to see him he freaked the fuck out and got really excited. I mean, maybe I’m reading the signs wrong, but I think he wants to see you.”

Stan watches as Eddie nods his head and takes a deep breath with that sinking feeling back in his stomach. Richie really  _ could  _ be unpredictable, so what if when they show up he gets angry? Or upset, and goes into one of those moments where he promptly shuts everyone out of his life for a day or two, only allowing Mike to talk to him? Eddie would be heartbroken. 

Now that he knows there’s something  _ wrong _ about Eddie and Jake’s relationship, he doesn’t feel bad about taking extra notice in the look in Eddie’s eyes when he’s with Richie. The fond expression on his face when Richie tells a stupid joke about his mom or calls him Eds. He’s not confused anymore about the way Richie is gentle with Eddie - yeah, he makes crude jokes to  _ and  _ about him, but he’s still gentle. The gentle touches, the gentle look in his eyes, gentle, gentle, gentle. No, Stan is most definitely not confused about this anymore. In fact, he thinks he that maybe, just maybe, he might understand. 

Mike leads the way down the hall, then Bill, Eddie, and lastly, Stan. Eddie, although comforted by the other’s words, still seems apprehensive as they stand outside the door. His lip is bleeding slightly from being bitten so much, and his leg is bouncing nonstop. Stan kind of wants to snap at him to  _ stop fucking doing that _ , but he figures they would all be better off if he didn’t. 

They’ve barely even reached out to knock before the door swings open. And, well, the sight they come to face is not a pleasant one (for Stan, anyway). Richie looked like  _ shit.  _

His hair, although normally a wild mop of black curls, is crazier than usual. It’s naughty, and greasy, and it makes Stan cringe. His glasses are crooked and his eyes are red. His ripped skinny jeans and band tee look like they’ve been worn for more than a day straight. His beaten up converse hit the floor softly as he walks towards Eddie. Eddie looks up at him, unmoving. It’s only when Richie wraps his arms around Eddie, one on his waist and the other on the back of his head, that Eddie cracks. Stan can see his body visibly relax into the touch, his sweatshirt covered hands reaching out to grip onto Richie’s obnoxious hawaiian overshirt, pulling him closer. Richie is bending down so he can rest his head on top of Eddie’s. Stan can vaguely hear him whispering sweet nothings into Eddie’s ear as he looks across from him. His eyes land on Bill, who is looking at the two of them with a small smile on his face. 

A ray of sunshine in the darkest of storms.

* * *

“Texas?!” Stan can see that Richie is not only baffled, but angry, as he shouts. Stan shushes him, silently reminding him that Eddie would most likely still hear them if he tried, shower water on or not. “I’m sorry, but what the hell is in Texas.”

“Not you,” Stan says, unable to hold back. He leans back in his chair. “Seems like a good enough reason to me, no?” He says the last part while looking at Bill with wide, unapologetically flirty eyes. He doesn’t know what overcame him, but he looks away immediately, his cheeks painted red. 

“Shut the fuck up, Stan,” Richie snaps, also turning to Bill. “You better do something about your man, Billiam.”

“Actually, he muh-might be on to something,” Bill says. His cheeks also have a red tint to them, but he looks serious, now, so Stan lets it be. He also doesn’t miss that Bill didn’t deny Stan being ‘his man’, and he doubts Mike and Richie did, either. “Muh-Maybe Jake really  _ does  _ want to g-get away from you.”

“What the  _ fuck _ !”

“I’m juh-just saying!” Bill defends himself, putting his hands into the air like he’s surrendering. “Maybe he can see how infatuated you are with Eh-Eddie.”

“In _ fat _ uated?” Richie puts a hand on his chest, staring at Bill with wide eyes. “Jesus, Big Bill, I’m not infatuated with the guy.”

“You can keep telling yourself that,” Stan says, earning a sharp  _ watch yourself, Stanthony,  _ in return. 

“Can we  _ please  _ focus?” Mike asks. They all nod. “Okay, we need to figure out how to deal with this. We can’t let Eddie go to Texas with Jake.” 

“What do you mean?” A small voice asks, and they all turn their heads so fast they might have gotten whiplash. Eddie is standing in the doorway of the bathroom wearing a pair of too big sweatpants and a too big sweatshirt. Stan doesn’t have to think twice about who they belong to. His eyes are wide as he looks at the four boys in the living room, darting his gaze to each of them before it settles on Richie. “What are you guys doing?” 

Richie is standing before Eddie even finishes the sentence, taking long strides over to him. He puts two hands on Eddie’s shoulders and bends down so he can look him in the eyes. Stan can’t hear what he’s saying, because for once in his life, Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier isn’t speaking loud enough for the whole fucking building to hear. Whatever he’s saying is calming Eddie down, though, so Stan decides to leave it alone. 

Eddie sighs and nods, looking at Richie with still wide eyes. He mutters something quietly, and Richie nods and stands. He grabs Eddie’s hand and leads him over to the couch. Once they sit down, Richie throws an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and pulls him flush to his side. 

“Alright, fuckers,” Richie says, propping his feet up on the coffee table. Eddie sticks his face into Richie’s shirt. None of the others miss the soft look on Richie’s face. “What do we do?”

“I thuh-think we should g-get Bev and Ben before we duh- _ do  _ anything.” 

Richie points at him. “Fantastic idea, Billiam!” He shouts. Stan shushes him. “How about you three go do that, and I’ll stay here to keep Eds some company.”

Eddie murmurs something against Richie’s shoulder. 

“My bad. Sorry, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“That’s worse,” Eddie says. 

Mike is already grabbing his truck keys. He looks over at Richie and Eddie with a worried expression. “You sure you’ll be alright here?” 

Richie nods. “Yeah,” he says, pulling Eddie closer to him somehow. “Yeah, I got him.”

* * *

Stan can hear Bill bouncing his leg in the backseat, and it’s driving him crazy. He wants to turn around and snap at him, but it’s Bill, and Stan is very much aware of how Bill can be when he’s nervous. They called Ben and Bev before showing up at their house, so they wouldn’t barge in on the middle of a make out session, or something.

The radio is off, which is also slightly annoying, because now they’ve been dumped into this silence where no one knows what to say, yet there are so many things to be said. 

Bill snorts in the back seat. Stan turns around to look at him. “What?” Mike asks. 

“Nuh-Not infatuated,” he says with another snort. 

At this, Stan laughs too. It seems to break some sort of barrier between the three of them, and they’re all laughing suddenly. Laughing like they’ve never laughed before, which is probably not true because they’ve had plenty of good laughs from their childhood until now. Maybe this one is just more important than all of the other ones, because the need for a laugh now is greater than ever before. 

“He’s been infatuated since we were thirteen,” Stan says with a grin.

“God, I could name the exact moment, too,” Mike laughs again. “When he found out all his medicine were gazebos, and he came down to the quarry. Eddie was yelling about it, he was so  _ mad.  _ He was like, ‘They’re  _ bull _ shit!’ He just kept saying that, over and over again. When he threw his fanny pack into the water, his inhaler included, I turned around and saw Richie just  _ staring. _ ”

“I ruh-remember that!” Bill chimes in. When Stan turns around to look into the backseat, he’s grinning and waving his hands in the air. “He luh-looked so lovestruck. It was hilarious.”

“Yeah, and then Eddie had that ‘asthma’ attack, and Richie just whipped this inhaler out of his back pocket like it was no big deal.” Stan adds, causing the other two to laugh.

It all goes quiet, then, and Stan is back to looking out the window and forcing himself not to snap at Bill for bouncing his leg. Stan wishes they could find something else to laugh about, or even to say, before he loses his mind. 

Eventually they pull up to Ben and Bev’s home. The two of them are already standing outside, waiting for them. The truck isn’t even in park before Beverly is pulling the door to the backseat open and pushing herself inside. Ben waits until the car is at a full stop before climbing in after his girlfriend. 

“Can someone please explain in full detail what the fuck is going on?” Beverly says as soon as she’s situated. She’s leaning forward in her seat, red hair falling to her shoulders from the braid it had been in previously. 

“We know about Eddie’s situation,” Ben adds, tugging his girlfriend back by the shoulder and reminding her to buckle up. “Richie told us.”

“Did he tell you guys he wasn’t infatuated with Eddie, too?”

“Stan, don’t.”

“Oh, you guys know about that?” Beverly asks, going from serious to a dopey grin on her face. “I kind of want them to just make out, you know?”

Bill covers his snort in his hand. 

“Eddie and Richie are back at our apartment,” Mike says, breaking them all out of their trance. “We’re trying to find out how to keep him from moving to Texas with Jake.”

“Texas?” Ben asks at the same time Bev says “Fuck.”

Mike looks at Stan, as if giving him permission to explain. Stan nods and dives right in, telling them everything. Even some things they probably already knew, but he was just being careful. When he’s finished, Beverly looks like she’s going to cry and Ben just looks kind of shocked. 

“Wuh-We also think Jake is stuh-starving him.”

“Starving?” Ben asks, leaning forward to look at Bill. Bill just nods. “I mean - once Richie told us about what was going on, I figured that was maybe why he refused to eat when I went to lunch with him. I didn’t know it went to thank extent.”

“When did you go to lunch with him?” Mike asks.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ben looks out the window as he thinks. “Like a month ago, maybe.”

  
They pull into the parking lot of the apartment complex. This time, everyone stays calm and walks behind Mike as he unlocks the door and leads them up the stairs for the second time that day. Once they reach the door, they open it to find Richie and Eddie exactly where they left them, except Eddie has a bowl of fruit in his hand and is eating it hesitantly. Richie looks up at them and smiles. 

“Hey, losers,” he greets them. 

Bev rushes forward and envelops Eddie in a tight hug. “Oh, Eddie. I’m so sorry this is happening, but we love you, yeah?” 

Eddie looks kind of stiff, Stan notices. He wonders if he was taken by surprise, or wether he’s just uncomfortable touching anyone who isn’t Richie at the moment. 

“Let’s get this party started, fuckers!” 


	14. "That's a Long Shot, Spaghetti Man."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the losers are together. Richie continues to be infatuated with Eddie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is by far the longest chapter I've ever written. I'm not upset about it. 
> 
> would you guys read other stories by me if I wrote them? now that I've actually gotten a fic up, and have some good feedback, my mind is reeling with ideas for more stories. so let me know if you would read them. 
> 
> let me know what you think of this chapter!

Eddie stood in front of him, perfect as always, his wide eyes staring up at Richie. And, God, how Richie loved him. He forces himself to move forward and envelop Eddie in a small hug. Immediately, he can hear Eddie whimpers as he grips onto Richie for dear life. 

“It’s okay,” Richie whispers to him, running his fingers through his short brown hair softly. “I’m here now. It’s okay, you’re okay, Eds. I’ve got you.”

Eddie is crying. Richie can feel the wetness on his shirt, but he doesn’t mind. As long as Eddie is safe, even if temporary. He wouldn’t mind dying to keep Eddie safe - a little bit a tears on his shirt is practically nothing. 

_ “Richie?” Mike asks into the phone. Richie nods, but then he remembers Mike can’t see him. He curses and takes the cigarette from his mouth.  _

_ “Yeah, it’s me.” Richie stubs the cigar out. He looks around the apartment. “Where are you?” _

_ “I’m at Stan and Bill’s,” he answers. Richie furrows his eyebrows. “With Eddie.” _

Richie drapes an arm around Eddie’s shoulders as he leads the small boy into the apartment. Eddie stays close to his side, and Richie heart soars even though he knows the affection is only because he’s struggling. Eddie would take the affection from any of them. 

But Eddie had wanted him.  _ Him _ .

_ “He wants to see you,” Mike says. Richie’s heart stops.  _

_ “Really?” Richie can’t help himself. He thought Eddie would hate him for the stunt he had pulled with Jake yesterday. “Me?” _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “You’re sure?” _

_ “Yes, Richie.” _

_ “Is he drunk?” _

_ “What -?” Richie can practically hear Mike shaking his head in frustration. Richie curls in on himself. Jesus, why couldn’t he just keep his mouth shut? Eddie probably wouldn’t even want to see him anymore after that accusation. “No. He’s not drunk. Can we come over?” _

_ “Fuck - okay.” Richie looks around the apartment, biting his lip at the clothes lying around. “Yeah, just. Yeah. I’ll be here.” _

Eddie had wanted him. Really wanted to see him, even when he had Bill and Stan and  _ Mike  _ there with him, he had asked for Richie. 

Richie felt his heart swell. 

And Eddie wasn’t drunk - he was here now, under Richie’s arm, and he was sober. Richie kind of wants to get him drunk, though, because maybe then he would get to see him giggling and smiling and being  _ happy _ . But he knows he shouldn’t do that. He needs to help Eddie right now, not get lost in his stupid fantasies about Drunk Eddie, no matter how adorable Drunk Eddie was. 

Richie leads them over to the couch, not even acknowledging the others, but Eddie stops. He turns to look up at Richie, his eyes wide and wet, and Richie’s mouth goes dry. It always does when Eddie looks at him with those doe eyes - he was rendered defenseless. He would do anything,  _ any _ thing, for Eddie when he looked at him like that.

Fuck. Richie was whipped.

“Can I take a shower?” Eddie asks in a small voice, looking away from Richie. He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck shyly. “I feel gross, I - I haven’t taken one since yesterday morning and I -”

“Of course you can take a shower, Eds,” Richie says, shaking his head with a small laugh. He reaches up to ruffle Eddie’s hair and cringes away in a joking manner. “Jesus-fuck, Spaghetti Man, it feels like you lumped some fucking gel in there or something!”

  
Eddie cracks a small smile. Richie smiles back, because, dammit, what the fuck is he supposed to do? “Let me just, uh, grab you some clean clothes, yeah? Those look like Bill’s,” he nods down to the shorts Eddie is wearing and brings his voice down to a whisper. “Who knows how many diseases Bill carries. The man just looks gross. Have you gotten a whiff of him lately?”

Eddie actually giggles at this, and Richie feels something deep in his stomach at the sound of it. He doesn’t even think about it. He’s used to it by now. 

He goes to grab some of his clothes from his room and hands them to Eddie with a smile. He watches as Eddie disappears into the bathroom and turns to the other three. They all stand there for a second before Bill frowns. 

“I duh-do  _ not  _ smell bad!”

_ “Mike,” he says before Mike can hang up on him.  _

_“Yeah?”_ _  
__Richie pauses. He doesn’t quite know how to phrase what he wants to say. “Is he okay?” He finally asks, hoping Mike will understand._

_ It takes Mike a second to respond, and Richie can’t decide whether the answer makes him feel better or worse. “He will be.” _

“Texas?!” Richie felt like he was going to vomit. Eddie couldn’t move to Texas. Not when things were finally (maybe) starting to turn out for them. “I’m sorry, but what the hell is in Texas.”

Stan’s response is almost immediate. “Not you,” he says. Richie whips his head around to look at Stan. He wants to be annoyed, and he is, but deep down he’s kind of proud. Stan The Man gets off a good one! “Seems like a good enough reason to me, no?” He looks up at Bill and Richie  _ swears  _ he flutters his eyelashes as he says it, and Richie guffaws. What the fuck? Did he miss something?

“Shut the fuck up, Stan,” he says instead of questioning it. He doesn’t think he really wants to know, anyways. It will probably just make him feel worse. He looks at Bill. “You better do something about your man, Billiam.”

Richie smirks at the blush spreading across both of their cheeks. “Actually, he muh-might be on to something,” Bill says. Richie stares at him. “Muh-maybe Jake really  _ does  _ want to g-get away from you.”

“What the  _ fuck _ !”

“I’m juh-just saying!” Bill puts his hands in the air as Richie glares at him. “Maybe he can see how infatuated you are with Eh-Eddie.”

Richie misses a beat when Bill says this. How the fuck did he know that? Beverly didn’t tell him - she wouldn’t do that. Not without Richie’s permission. And he had thought he was being subtle this whole time, so what the  _ fuck _ . “In _ fat _ uated?” Richie manages to spit out, staring at Bill with wide eyes. He puts a hand on his chest. “Jesus, Big Bill,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m not infatuated with the guy.”

“You can keep telling yourself that.”

“Watch it, Stanthony,” Richie snaps. 

“Can we  _ please  _ focus?” Mike asks. Richie’s gaze stays on Stan as he nods along with the rest of them. “Okay, we need to figure out how to deal with this. We can’t let Eddie go to Texas with Jake.”

Richie opens his mouth to say something along the lines of ‘No shit, Sherlock,’ but a small voice to right beats him to it. “What do you mean?” Eddie asks, and Richie’s heart stops when he looks over at Eddie. He’s wearing Richie’s clothes, which Richie had expected because he literally gave them to Eddie  _ to  _ wear, but the sight still makes his mouth run dry. They’re hanging off of Eddie more than usual. Eddie looks at the other three before looking at Richie. When he does, Richie can see the absolute terror in his eyes. “What are you guys doing?” 

Richie stands up and stumbles over to him. He puts a hand on both of Eddie’s shoulders, and Eddie looks up at him with wide eyes. Richie curses those doe eyes. He bends down so he can be eye level with Eddie. He smiles softly at him. “Hey, you’re okay, Spaghetti Man,” he says with a frown as Eddie’s eyes dart back and forth and all around Richie’s face in panic. He whimpers slightly, and Richie reaches up to put a hand on Eddie’s neck. “We’re just trying to help you.” Eddie’s eyes finally focus and meet Richie’s. “You’re okay. You’re doing great, you know that, right?” Eddie’s breaths start to slow down. “There you go, Eds. I’m right here. You’re okay.” 

Eddie stays quiet for a few seconds before nodding. “I’m good,” he says. Richie grins and stands up, grabbing Eddie’s hand and leading him to the couch. Once they’re both sitting, Richie throws his arm around Eddie’s shoulder and pulls him to his side. 

“Alright, fuckers,” Richie says, putting his feet on the coffee table. He smiles softly at Eddie as the smaller boy sticks his head into Richie’s shoulder. “What do we do?”

It’s Bill who speaks first. “I thuh-think we should g-get Bev and Ben before we duh- _ do  _ anything.”

“Fantastic idea, Billiam!” Richie exclaims, pointing at him with his free hand. Stan shushes him, and Richie shoots him a quick glare but lowers his voice nonetheless. “How about you three go do that, and I’ll stay here to keep Eds some company.”

  
“That’s not my name,” Eddie murmurs against his shirt.

Richie’s heart swells. “My bad. Sorry, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“That’s worse.”

Mike looks at them with a worried expression, truck keys hanging loosely in his hand. “You sure you’ll be alright here?” He asks.

Richie nods. “Yeah,” he says, pulling Eddie closer to him. He needs to be closer. He never wants to let him go. He looks back up at Mike. “Yeah, I got him.”

_ As soon as Mike hangs up the phone, Richie is rushing around the apartment trying to pick up every loose piece of clothing. He even goes as far as vacuuming and then scrubbing the countertops. He fixes his bed as an afterthought.  _

_ He spends the next two minutes looking through the peephole. When he sees them approaching, his heart drops to the floor and shatters into a million pieces. It takes a second, but he opens the door.  _

“So,” he says when the door shuts. He looks at Eddie and smiles when he looks back at him. “What’s up?”

Eddie is quiet as he plays with the loose string on Richie’s tee. He does this for quite some time, eventually stopping and resting his hand where it was - right on Richie’s abdomen. Fuck, Richie thinks, and before he can stop himself, he’s putting his hand over Eddie’s and stroking patterns into the soft skin. 

“Can I have something to eat?” Eddie asks, and Richie tightens the arm around his shoulders. He says it so quietly Richie doesn’t know if he imagined it, but the way Eddie is looking up at him tells him he didn’t.

“Fuck,” Richie mutters under his breath. Mike had mentioned that Jake was restricting Eddie’s diet and that it had gone too far -  _ much  _ too far, Richie notices, with the way Eddie’s cheekbones pop out and the clothes hang off of him. He’s standing up already, so fast his head is spinning and his vision blackens for a second. He braces a hand on the wall. “Yeah, fuck - uh, what do you want?”

“Do you have fruit, or something?” Eddie stands up as well, walking into the kitchen behind Richie. Richie laughs and opens the fridge, bending down to look into it. He is vaguely aware of Eddie hopping onto the counter. 

“That’s a long shot, Spaghetti Man. Have you met me?”

“You live with Mike, though,” Eddie says with a shrug. Richie looks at him fondly. “I figured it was worth a shot.”

Richie clicks his tongue. “That is a good point,” he says. He moves some things around for a second before finding some strawberries out. “Aha! Jackpot!” He holds the package up to Eddie and raises his eyebrows. “Strawberries good?”

  
Eddie nods, so Richie pulls a plastic cup out of the cabinet and pours a few in there, finishing in with a fork. “Thank you,” Eddie says in a soft voice as Richie hands it to him.

“Hey, it’s no problem, Eds,” Richie ruffles Eddie’s slightly damp hair, relishing in the pout Eddie gives him in return. Eddie lets out a noise of pleasure that  _ definitely _ did  _ not  _ go straight to Richie’s dick as he shovels the first strawberry into his mouth. 

“These are so good,” Eddie says with mouth full, looking at Richie with those damn doe eyes again. 

Richie smiles and leans against the counter next to Eddie. He and Eddie are at eye level with him sitting on the counter like this. He wishes he could lean in between Eddie’s legs and put a hand on his thigh, reaching forward to where their lips are only centimeters apart and -

And, fuck. No. He shouldn’t be thinking about that. 

“I’m glad,” Richie says, a little too late. Eddie hums and continues eating. 

When Eddie finished, he hold the cup out to Richie with a small smile. “Can I have some more?” He asks, and Richie nods without hesitation as he takes the cup from Eddie’s hands. When he brings it back, full of more fruit, Eddie smiles and takes it. He leans down to press a quick kiss to Richie’s cheek before hopping off the counter and waltzing into the living room as if Richie wasn’t stunned to the spot with wide eyes.

He grins quietly and reaches up to brush his fingers over his cheek where Eddie had kissed it. He takes a strawberry for himself and pops it into his mouth before walking after Eddie. He sits down next to him and throws his arm around his shoulders again. 

Richie can’t help it anymore. He has to ask. “Why did you let Jake pull you away like that?” Eddie looks over at him, his eyes wide again. He stops chewing. “Yesterday,” Richie further explains. “You just… let him pull you away.”

Eddie swallows and looks away. “You know why, Rich.”

“You don’t have to everything he tells you to, Eds.”  
Eddie shakes his head and leans it on Richie’s shoulders. “I don’t want to deal with what will happen if I don’t,” he whispers.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone sooner?” Richie knows the answer to this. He’d done his research with Ben and Bev in the library, but he has to hear it from Eddie. 

“I… I don’t know,” Eddie’s voice is strained from holding back tears. “I guess I felt stuck, sort of. I was afraid of would would happen if I did leave, or tell anyone. It would be  _ real _ , then.” Eddie shakes his head and looks over at Richie, eyes wide and desperate. “You know I deserve it, right? Whenever - whenever it happens, it’s because I did something to deserve it. It was my fault, all of it.”

“Eddie,” Richie whispers, his heart breaking with every word. 

“You know I’m right, Richie,” Eddie pleads. 

“No.”

“Yes!” Eddie reaches out to grab Richie’s shoulders. “He loves me, Richie. I know it!”

  
Richie runs a hand through his hair. “That’s some fucked up love, if he does.”

Eddie doesn’t respond right away, so Richie looks over at him. There are tears running down his cheeks. Immediately, Richie reaches up with both of his hands and cups Eddie’s cheek, wiping the tears away. “I’m so sorry,” he whimpers, looking up at Richie with wide, wet eyes. “I so sorry, I shouldn’t have - I should have -”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Richie whispers. He leans forwards and kisses the top Eddie’s hair, then lets his head rest on the soft fluffy hair. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I know how hard this must be, so… just relax for me, yeah?” Eddie nods and leans back into Richie’s arms, right in the crook of his arm. “That’s good. Relax, Eds, you’re okay.”

Eventually, they find their way back to their original position. Eddie is tucked underneath Richie’s arms, laughing at something Richie had said and eating his fruit. “You were hungry, huh?” Richie asks as he looks at the almost empty cup. Eddie tenses up, but Richie squeezes his shoulder in comfort. Although Eddie visibly relaxes, he only nods his head. Richie decides to change the topic. “So, how much do you want to bet that Bev and Ben were fucking before Mike called ‘em?”

Eddie chokes on his strawberry and looks at Richie in shock. “Richie!”

“Oh, right, sorry,” he coughs. “How much do you want to bet that Bev and Ben were  _ making love  _ before Mike called ‘em?”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie says harshly, but he’s smiling widely so Richie takes it as a win. 

Eddie lays his head on Richie’s shoulder again, only to whip it upwards as the front door swings open. The other five losers are in the doorways. Bev is the first to rush forward, enveloping Eddie in a hug. Richie gets up as Bev starts talking to Eddie.

He makes a beeline for Stan. “You got him to eat?” Stan asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“What can I say, Stanny, I’ve got a way with my words.” Richie winks. Stan looks unimpressed, so Richie just shrugs. “He asked if we had any food. I gave him some strawberries.” 

“Good,” Stan says, nodding. “I was worried. He’s just… really skinny.”

“Yeah,” Richie messes with the bracelet on his left hand. “So, how long have you and Bill been fucking?”

“I - what?” 

Richie wiggles his eyebrows and grins. “You know, fucking. Doing the do. Making love. Sexual intercorse. Seriously, Staniel, what are you, seven?” 

Stan glares at him. “I’ll talk to you about that when you’re ready to talk about your infatuation,” he replies, nodding his head behind Richie. Richie turns around and sees Eddie, talking to Ben and Bev with a small smile. Richie feels his face redden and he turns to talk to Stan again, but Stan has already disappeared. 

Richie groans and shakes his head. He goes back over to Eddie. When he reaches them, he puts a hand on Bev’s elbow. She looks over at him and smiles, putting a hand over his. He smiles, too, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His gazes moves over to land on Eddie. Eddie, who looks so broken yet so beautiful, sitting on the couch with his hands covered by the sleeves of Richie’s sweatshirt. He’s frowning at Ben, who must have just said something to him, when he looks down at the watch on his arm. “Shit,” he mutters, standing up immediately and looking at Richie with wide eyes. “I need to get back home.”

  
“What?” Richie shakes his head in disbelief. “No. I can’t let you do that, Eds.”

Eddie pushes his way to Richie and puts both hands on his chest. Richie looks down t him, the hand placement silencing him for a moment or two. “RIchie, listen to me,” he says. “I need to get home. I wasn’t ever even supposed to leave in the first place. Jake had work, so I figured it would be fine as long I was home before he was, but… he’ll have been home for about two hours by now.”

This makes Richie’s frown grow. “That makes me not want to let you go even more,” Richie whispers to him. He covers both of Eddie’s hands with his own, squeezing them tightly. 

“I have to.”

  
“Eds,” Richie pleads. 

“Luh-Let him go, Richie.” Bill cuts in. “We’ll have a way to figure this out soon.” 

Richie can’t help but notice the look that crosses over Eddie’s face when Bill says this. “I’ll be okay, Richie,” Eddie says. “I can handle. I’m tough.”

“Well, fuck,” Richie says, smiling lazily. “You don’t have to remind me of that.”

They share one last hug before Richie is forced to watch as Bill and Eddie leave the apartment so Eddie can go back. Back to Jake. 

“So,” Stan says, making his way to stand next to Richie. “How long have to the two of you been fucking?” 

Richie promptly flicks him off. 

* * *

“What do you mean we can’t just barge in there?”

“Richie, we have to have some sort of plan,” Mike reminds him. “Barging into his home, beating him up, and then running is most definitely not the best course of action.”  
Beverly puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Out best bet is to talk to Eddie. If we can convince him to break up with Eddie before Thanksgiving, then we should be okay.”

“That’s it?” Richie asks, leaning back on the counter. He raises his eyebrows. “No breaking and entering, no epic battle?”

“If you want to get your ass kicked, feel free,” Stan buts in. “But I agree with Beverly.”

“We can be there with him,” Ben says, smiling at him from the other side of Bev. “As moral support. Maybe, like, waiting in another room. Just in case anything happens.”

“A man with a plan,” Richie nods his head and points at him. He’s trying to ignore the heavy feeling in his stomach. For all he knew, all  _ any  _ of them knew, Eddie was the one getting his ass kicked. A shiver ran down his spine just thinking about it. 

“Ben and I could talk to him,” Bev adds, grabbing Ben’s hand. “We could tell him what love is really like, you know?”

“So then maybe he could stop saying that Jake loves him. On a loop. It makes me sick,” Richie says. He shakes his head and sighs. He looks around at the rest of the losers. “So that’s the plan?”

Bill nods. “Talk to Eddie, have Eddie tuh-talk to Jake.”  
“Provide lots a moral support,” Mike adds. 

They all nod. “It will take a lot convincing, you guys,” Stan says, looking at Ben and Bev with his eyebrows raised. 

Beverly lets out a shaky breath,squeezing Ben’s hand. “We can do it.”

Richie sure fucking hopes they can. 


	15. "It Made Me Feel Sick."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bev and Ben teach Eddie about love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning: this chapter is short, and it sucks a lot. like, a lot. but it had to be done, it's important, so at least there's that. the next chapter is going to be really long, though!! sadly, I think there will probably only be two more chapters after this one. I can't believe I'm actually going to finish a fic! I usually never finish, but your comments keep me going :) let me know what you think!

Beverly Marsh is in love with Ben Hanscom. This much she knows. 

It’s been two weeks since they discovered their plan to talk to Eddie, but now that the time is here, and Eddie Kaspbrak is sitting across from him, she doesn’t know what to say. She holds on to Ben’s hand like her life depends on it. At this point, though, it might be Eddie’s life on the life.

“You wanted to talk to me?” Eddie says, looking at them from across the room. He’s sunk into the back of the couch, his yellow sweater vest hanging off of him. He’s gained weight in the past two weeks, according to Richie, and now, looking at him, she can visibly tell. He’s still smaller than he used to be, but getting him to eat was easier than everyone had thought it would be. Stan thinks Jake must have placed the thoughts into Eddie’s head about him being overweight, so once they got him to believe it was all bullshit, he was fine again. He was still hesitant every once in a while, usually after a rough night back at home, but Richie’s soothing never failed. 

Ben smiles and nods at him. “Yeah, we did.”

“So?” 

Beverly Marsh is in love with Ben Hanscom. This much she knows. She also knows that this is what she and Ben came to talk to Eddie about. “We wanted to talk to you about love,” Beverly says, deciding to get straight to the point. She sees Eddie tense up, but Ben starts talking before he can freak out. 

“I even wrote out some notes,” he says, his cheeks tinted red. He pulls out his notebook and coughs. “I, uh. Stan likes when things are orderly, and you and him are pretty similar about that kind of stuff. I kind of figured, you know…”

“You’re good, Ben,” Eddie smiles at him. His cheeks are red, too, coating his freckles. “I appreciate it.”

Ben lightens up and smiles back at Bev. “Great! Okay, then…” He flips through the notebook, biting his lip as he does it. “Okay, first thing first, I got the definition of love here. I just, uh, thought maybe I could read it to you and you could tell us what you think?” Eddie nods, although a little flustered, so Ben nods as well and coughs before reading. “ _ An intense feeling of deep affection; a great interest or pleasure in something or someone; like very much; find pleasure in _ .”

They all stay quiet for a second. The redness on Ben’s cheeks has greatened considerably. Looking over at Eddie, she can see that his has, too, reaching all the way up to his ears. From the way they’re both acting in this conversation, it looks almost like they were in love with each  _ other.  _ Bev almost laughs out loud at the idea, but figures the timing would be inappropriate. 

“Do any of those relate to how you feel about Jake?” She asks instead, looking at Eddie intensely. 

Eddie looks down at his hands and twiddles his thumbs. “I don’t know,” he says. 

“Well, here,” she takes the journal from Ben. “How about I read them out one at a time, and you tell me whether you feel it applies to you or not. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods. 

“Okay,” Beverly nods as well and looks down at the notebook. She bites her lip and runs her finger along the page. “Okay, how about this one.  _ An intense feeling of deep affection _ ?” 

Eddie inhales slowly through his nose. “I don’t  _ know _ ,” he says, his voice strained from holding back tears. “It’s like - it’s almost like, half and half. It’s just. I feel the deep affection, but it’s never  _ intense _ , and never constant.”

Ben nods. “That makes sense,” Beverly says. “Sounds like when I was with Bill. I realized later on, though, that it was friendly feeling. Do you think maybe you just have friendly feelings for him?”

Immediately, Eddie shakes his head. “No, absolutely not.” He pauses. His head rests against the back of the couch and he laughs lightly. “I don’t really know how to explain it. It’s almost like I don’t have any feeling for him at all?”

  
“But you said you had deep affection?” Ben implies, raising his eyebrows. 

“It’s like, when I’m with him and he’s in a good mood…” Eddie shakes his head and looks down. “He reminds me a lot of Richie, I guess. When he’s not, you know…”

And, yeah. Beverly knew. “Richie?” Ben asks, tilting his head to the side. 

Bev can understand where he’s coming from with that. She’s met Jake countless of times, and never has he ever reminded her of  _ Richie _ . Not in the slightest. 

“Yeah, it’s like - he get all excited about these random things,” Eddie waves his hands around and smiles as he talks. “And whenever he’s in a good mood, he makes all these stupid jokes, and he’s so touchy, but gentle, actually, you know?” 

Ben shoots Beverly a look that says  _ we’ll talk about this later.  _

“Okay, moving on,” Beverly says quickly. “We want to talk to you about what love is really supposed to be like.”

Eddie nods slowly, looking at them. He looks eager, almost. Nothing like how he looked when they first began. “Okay, so…” Ben sighs before he starts talking. “It’s like - when I look at Beverly, I get this feeling. Down in the bottom of my stomach, and I can never really tell what it is. I’ve been feeling it for years, but it’s still as prominent as it was when I first met her. And she still makes me nervous, too, even after being with her for five years. I mean, I live with her! And she still manages to make me feel butterflies in my stomach with the smallest look.” Eddie stays silent during Ben’s little speech, but he looks on edge. He just keeps looking at his shoes. “And everytime I look at her, it’s like the first,” he continues, looking at Beverly with soft eyes. “Because I will  _ never  _ get over how beautiful she is. Even the flaws, like the scar underneath her lip from that rock fight with Bower’s gang, they just make her even more beautiful. Her personality is beautiful. She never fails to light up a room. I just can’t get enough of her.”

Beverly feels her heart swelling with every word. She squeezes his hand again. When she turns back to Eddie, she’s grinning. “I feel all that and more about him. I think I always loved him, even when I dated Bill, I just never knew it. He makes me crazy. It hurts me when he has bad days about his weight. You can never shake the image of yourself like that, you know? I want nothing more than to ease pain. He doesn’t deserve any of it. He balances me out, too, which is really really nice. When I get a little  _ too  _ crazy, or want to go smoke weed with Rich, he’s there to talk me out of it. He always helps me out of my funk. He always wants what’s best for me, I for him. I love him so fucking much, Eddie.” When Eddie’s name leaves her mouth, she’s brought back to the reality of the situation. Her eyes are sad, now, as she looks at him. “I just.. I don’t know if that’s how Jake feels about you. I mean, do you even feel that way about him?” 

“I need to go to the restroom.” Eddie states quietly, standing up and stumbling to the bathroom of their house. Beverly stands to follow him. When she gets to the bathroom, he’s dry heaving into the toilet, his hands on either side and his knees on the tiles floor. 

Bev rushes forwards and places a hand on his back. She rubs it up and down comfortingly, while Eddie continues to dry heave. He’s coughing, making awful noises, his back hunching. Beverly wonders briefly is he needs his inhaler, but he’s been trying not to use it as much, so she holds herself back from asking. He finishes eventually, leaning back against his heels. His entire face is red when he looks over at Beverly. “I’m sorry,” he says, removing his hands from the toilet. “I don’t know what happened. Just, with you two talking like that…” He looks down at his hands. “It made me feel sick.” 

“Sorry?” Beverly doesn’t know how to respond to that. 

“No!” Eddie goes to reach out for her, but stops when he sees his hands again. He grimaces and makes to stand up and go over to the sink. “It’s just. Hearing you guys say that stuff about being in love, it makes me… I don’t think I love Jake,” he says, avoiding her gaze by buising himself washing his hands. “But he does love  _ me. _ Before you say anything,” he adds, turning to look at her. He leans his back against the sink. “I think he does, but like, in some sort of sick way. You get me?”

Beverly grins and claps a hand on his shoulder. “That’s what I’ve been saying this whole time!” 

“I can’t leave him, Bev,” he says, looking at her with wide eyes. “I can’t do that to him.”

“You would be helping him,” she tells him, frowning. “If you sit down and talk to him -”

“If I sit down and talk to him, I’ll stay!” Eddie yells desperately. “I know I will, Bev. He’s like my mother! He’ll just manipulate me until I agree to stay with him. He’s done it before, he’ll do it again!”

“We won’t let him.” Bev reassures him. “We’ll be there with you, but he won’t know. If he tries anything, we’ll interfere. You’re getting the hell out of there, okay?” 

Eddie takes a few deep breaths before he nods. “Yeah,” he says, running his hands along his forearms. “I want to. I really want to.” 

Beverly just hugs him. 

* * *

Ben and Bev wave after him as he pulls out of their driveway. When he’s gone, she turns to Ben with a frown on his face. “This must suck for him,” she says, pushing her face into Ben’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Ben says, running his fingers through her hair. “Yeah, I know.”   



	16. "Shut the Fuck Up Already."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Final Battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is so freaking long ohmygod odncwek  
> I'm actually happy with it though? let me know what you think :)  
> next chapter is the last!! it should be a happy happy one, and up in the next few days. hopefully.   
> enjoy!!

“I think I’m in love with Richie.”

It’s the first thing Eddie says when Stan opens the door. Stan doesn’t react, just stares, and it makes Eddie feel uneasy. They keep eye contact for a second before Stan steps back and says, “Come in.” 

Eddie steps into the house, looking around and rocking on his feet. Stan leads him through the halls of Bill’s house until he reaches the living room, where Bill is sitting on the couch watching TV. “Bill, you have a visitor.”

Eddie looks at Stan with wide eyes, because he didn’t say he had come here to see Bill. It was true, though, and Eddie had no idea Stan would even be here. Bill grins when he sees Eddie, standing up to greet him. “Eddie!” He says, eveloping him in a hug. “How are you?”

“Good,” Eddie says with a shrug.

“Well, don’t lie to him,” Stan buts in. He turns to Bill and raises his eyebrows. “Eddie here has a bit of a dilemma.” Bill looks at Eddie in concern. Eddie doesn’t make a move to say anything, so Stan does it for him. “He says he thinks he’s in love with Richie.”

Bill raises his eyebrows. “You  _ think _ ?”

“Check him for a fever.”

“Stan, don’t,”

“Your stutter,” Eddie says. Bill furrows his eyebrows. “Your stutter - I mean, I haven’t heard you stutter once since I got here.”

“Oh, right.” Bill’s cheeks turn pink. “I’ve just been in a good mood lately, which usually huh-helps. I’m not perfect though,” he says with a shrug.

“That’s awesome, Bill,” Eddie says with a genuine smile. “I know how much you hate it.”

“Yeah,” Stan grins devilishly. “Eddie’s new lover boy will get a real  _ chuck  _ out of it.”

Eddie blushes furiously. “Shut up, Stan,” he says sharply. “I’m serious! Ben and Bev talked to me today. The love thing, you know. It helped, it really did,” he explains as the three of them sit on the couch. “I’m going to talk to Jake. Break up with him.” Bill grins at this, reaching forward and patting Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie smiles, too, but it doesn’t last very long. “But, everything they said. About how they feel about each other. I - that’s how I feel about Richie.”

“You’re sure?” Stan asks, and Bill glares at him. 

“I’m sure.”

“Why are you so upset ab-b-out that?” 

Eddie shuffles his feet against the floor. “I’m not upset about. I don’t think I am, anyways. I just - I don’t know what to do about.”

“Talk to him,” Stan suggests, leaning forward to look at Eddie with a soft smile. “I can promise you won’t be upset with the response.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Eddie asks, tilting his head to the side. He thinks he knows what Stan means, but he doesn’t want to get his hopes up. Jesus - when did his mind become like this?

“Ignore him,” Bill says. “I do agree with him, though. You should truh-try to talk to him.”

“I kind of want to wait until this is all over with, you know?” Eddie shakes his head and looks away from them. “I’m sorry - I just showed up here. I should’ve called first, or something, I-”

“Cuh-calm down, Eddie,” Bill smiles. “I’m glad you came. And you’re breaking up with Jake! Thuh-that’s awesome.”

Stan nods eagerly next to him. “Yeah. When do you plan on doing that, by the way?” 

“I’m not sure,” Eddie says with a frown. “Soon, hopefully.”

* * *

Soon happens to be the very next day. Eddie wakes up to a note on his bedside table telling him Jake will be home sometime late this evening, which gives him time to pack all of his stuff up in bags and call the rest of the losers. He does the latter first.

“This is Richie Tozier speaking, and this better be fucking important because I was eating the best fucking waffle I’ve ever had.”

“Hey, Rich,” Eddie says with a small smile. He’s kind of nervous, actually. This is the first time he’s talked to Richie since his newfound discovery of his feelings, and his heart is beating out of his chest, so he can’t imagine what it will be like when he sees him in person. 

“Eds, is that you?” Richie asks, and Eddie can hear him grinning. Eddie hums in response. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”  
“I’m breaking up with Jake today.”

Richie chokes. “You’re serious?”

“Serious,” Eddie says, grinning. 

Richie whoops in his ear. “That’s fucking awesome, Eds!” He says, and Eddie can’t help but giggle to himself. “What time should us losers be there?”

“Around two. Jake will be home late this afternoon.”  
“Well, Spaghetti, I’ll be there.”

“Actually, can you come over now?” Eddie blurts before he can back out. “I want to be ready to go when it happens, so I was thinking maybe you could help me pack?” 

Richie is weirdly silent for a moment. “Yeah,” he says eventually. “Um, yeah. I’ll be there in ten?” 

Eddie nods. Richie can’t see him, but he does it anyway. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Richie says softly back. Eddie can hear him grinning again. 

Eddie calls the rest of the losers while he waits for Richie.

* * *

“You barely have anything.”

Eddie doesn’t respond. He just nods, enjoying the warmth radiating from Richie’s body from how close they’re sitting. His suitcase is sitting in front of them on the floor, only halfway full with Eddie’s possessions. “You sure there's nothing else?” Richie asks him, knocking their shoulders together. Eddie shakes his head. “You needed help with this?”  
Eddie looks away and shrugs. “Not really,” he admits quietly. _I just wanted to be with you,_ he thinks. _I just wanted to know if what I was feeling was real._ “I didn’t want to be alone.”

Richie drapes an arm around his shoulders, and Eddie unintentionally leans into the touch. “Nothing wrong with that, Spaghetti Head.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie says with giggle and a little shove and Richie.

The arm around him tightens. “But it fits you!” Richie exclaims, laughing as well. “Now that your hair is growing out, is looks like spaghetti. Don’t you think?”  
Eddie shakes his head, but he stills when he looks over at Richie. Their noses are almost touching, and Eddie is overcome with the sudden need to kiss Richie. He’s never thought about it before, not once in their years of friendship, but now he feels like he’s going to roll over and die f it doesn’t happen this instant. “No,” Eddie whispers, his breath blowing across one of Richie’s curls. “Absolutely not.”

Richie chuckles, and his warm breath fans over Eddie’s face. He’s grinning dopily at Eddie, his glasses sliding down his nose, his hair in his face, his lips plump and pink and chapped and so fucking kissable. Eddie subconsciously leans in. He reaches up and pushes up Richie’s glasses, leaving his hand to rest on Richie’s cheek. His mind is racing with thoughts, but all he can make out is a constant string of  _ Richie Richie Richie RichieRichieRichieRichie.  _

The moment is broken as Richie pulls away, his cheeks a light pink. Eddie can only imagine what his look like. Richie stands in all his giraffe glory, and looks down at Eddie with a sad smile. “Boyfriend,” he reminds Eddie, pointing a finger. Then, he promptly walks away, disappearing into the kitchen. 

Eddie groans and throws his head against the couch cushion. “Fuck,” he whispers, closing his eyes. He’s been best friends with Richie for years, friends for longer, and he’s known his the longest. He’s known him since he was seven years old, and he’s never wanted Richie in the way he wanted him now. Not once has he thought about touching Richie’s lips with his own, feeling him, tasting him. Not once has he thought about having Richie hovering over him in bed, or straddling Richie’s lap, or holding hands with Richie, stroking his thumb over Richie’s cheek. He’s never thought about it before, not once, and now it’s all he can think about. 

What the hell happened?

What happened to make him want to be closer to Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier than he had to be? When did he start actually laughing at Richie’s jokes? Or not minding it when he called him Eds? 

His thoughts are broken as Richie stumbles back into the room. He’s wearing a black band tee today, paired with a red and blue flannel and ripped skinny jeans. He’s grinning at Eddie and holding a packet of marshmallows in his hand. Eddie raises his eyebrows. 

“Wanna play Chubby Bunny, Eds?” He asks hopefully, stalking towards Eddie. 

Eddie shakes his head. “Fuck no.” 

“Why not?!” Richie whines, throwing himself across the couch, his feet in Eddie’s lap. He wiggles his eyebrows. “Scared you’ll lose?”

“ _ Fuck  _ no.” Eddie sits up straighter and looks at Richie with challenging eyes. “Bring it on.”

Richie springs up. “Really?” Eddie nods. 

A grin makes its way across Richie’s face and he tears the bag open. “I’ll go first!” He says, popping on in his mouth. “Chubby Bunny,” he says with a British accent. 

Eddie puts one in his mouth too. “Chubby Bunny.”

They do this for a minuted before Richie is shoving his seventh marshmallow in his mouth. “Chubb… ‘uck!” He exclaims, laughing as melted marshmallow drips down his chin. A laugh forms in Eddie’s throat, and he almost chokes trying to hold it back.

“ ‘at’s dis _ gust _ ing!” Eddie says, but he’s smiling so much that he has to cover his mouth with his hand so marshmallow doesn’t start dripping out. 

Richie waves his hand in the air. “I can do it,” he whines. “Are yah reh-e?” Eddie nods, still grinning. “Chu-eeh bu-eeh! Ehhs, I did it!” 

Eddie is smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. When he tries to say it, he can’t even get the marshmallow in his mouth, so Richie is declared the winner. They stumble to the kitchen sink, hands covering mouths, stomach aching from laughter, tears spilling down their cheeks, and Eddie decides he’s never been happier in his entire life. 

“What do you think that says about my gag reflex?” Richie asks him as they lay in the grass on the front yard. Their hands are shamelessly intertwined on the grass between them. 

“It fucking sucks, that’s what.”

“Eds!” Richie placed his free hand on his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me! Although I know you’re bluffing. The results of the game say it all.” 

Eddie can’t keep the grin off his face. “You’re so stupid.”

“I think your gag reflex is probably pretty good, no?” Richie continues. “You could have beat me. You just weren’t doing it right. You have to stick it as far back as it goes and -”

“Beep beep, Richie!” Eddie exclaims, his face flushed as he kicks Richie in the leg softly. He’s still smiling, though. They sit there for moments longer, just enjoying being with each other. The sheer presence of his best friend next to him, in the flesh and blood, was one of the most comforting things Eddie had ever experienced. 

Richie shrugs, turns his head to look at Eddie. “I’m happy you’re getting rid of him,” he says, squeezing Eddie’s hand for emphasis.

“Me too.” Eddie says, turning his head to the side as well. The grass is cool under his cheek, and Richie’s eyes look pretty this close. “You helped me, you know. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

“You would!” Richie raises his eyebrows. He gets closer to Eddie. “One day you would have realized you were too good for that dickwad, Eds. You’re smart like that.”

Eddie smiles softly at him. “Thank you anyways, Rich.” 

“Hey, it’s not problem, good suh!” Richie says in an awful British accent. Eddie giggles and Richie grins. It becomes quiet again, and Eddie sighs. He turns back to the sky. “That night,” Richie says again. Eddie can feel his breath hitch. “After we all were at Mike and I’s apartment. You, uh, you left because you were late.” The eyes on the side of Eddie’s face are burning into his skin. “Did he do anything that night?”

  
Eddie visibly stiffens. It had been two weeks since that night, and Eddie had thought everyone had forgotten about it. He should have known better, though, because this is Richie, and Richie always cares no matter what. If Eddie punched him in the face and told him to never talk to him again, Richie would still care about him. Eddie should have known he hadn’t forgotten. Richie is here, squeezing his hand, and Eddie relaxes with a sigh. “It… I mean, yeah, he did, but…” Eddie lets out a shaky breath and ignores how Richie’s gaze is still trained on the side of his face. “It wasn’t too bad.” 

“If he touches you wrong, it’s still just as bad,” Richie says, propping himself up on his elbow so he can look at Eddie’s face. “Him pinching you is just as bad as him leaving you sore for two weeks and covered in bruises. He shouldn’t be doing anything to hurt you at all.”

Eddie lets his eyes slide over to Richie. He immediately regrets it. Richie looks gorgeous like this, with the sunlight hitting him perfectly, his hair making a halo around his face, and his eyes squinted where they’re looking at Eddie. He smiles a small smile, and Eddie kind of wants to kiss him again. 

For a moment he thinks it’s weird. How all of a sudden, now that his feelings were brought to his attention, he thinks about Richie completely differently. But maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he’s always thought about Richie like this, he just never knew he was. He was subconsciously pushing the thoughts to the back of his head before they were even created. 

He lets his eyes fall to Richie’s lips as he speaks. “He burned me,” he blurts out, and he’s so flustered after he says it that he looks away from Richie completely and shuts his eyes. 

“He  _ what _ ?” Richie says, and he sounds so  _ mad _ that it makes Eddie’s chest hurt. “What the fuck?” Richie is all over him in a second, straddling his and grabbing his face so that Eddie is forced to look at him. “Where?”

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s not the first time. It’s no big deal, really,” Eddie insists. 

“Eds.” Richie’s voice is stern, and so, so, serious that Eddie  _ has  _ to look at him. He wishes he hadn’t, because Richie looks hurt. He looks so hurt, as if what Jake had done to him personally offended him. He looks so hurt, and so sad, and Eddie’s heart breaks just a little at the sight. “Eds, where?”

  
Eddie reaches up in a bold moment and grabs Richie’s wrist. He leads it to his left hip, sets it there, and holds his breath. Richie watches with wide eyes. “Here?” Richie whispers, lifting his eyes to meet Eddie’s. Eddie nods. Richie flattens his hand on Eddie’s waist, shuts his eyes, and takes a deep breath. Eddie watches nervously as Richie opens his eyes and begins to lift his shirt. He moves it to where it rest just above his belly button. Removing his hand, he looks back up to Eddie as if to check on him. Eddie props himself up on his elbows so he can see. As much as he doesn’t want to, he feels like he needs to.

Richie runs a hand along the skin on his lower stomach, and Eddie’s breath hitches. Richie then moves down to the elastic band on Eddie’s sweats, moving them down slowly. He stops once he can see the burn marks. He doesn’t move his gaze as he asks, “Are those from…”

“Cigars,” Eddie finishes for him. He feels sick. 

Richie runs his hands over his face. “Jesus-fuck,” he mutters, leaning back to rest against Eddie’s legs. When he looks back at the burn marks, two small circles, one a scar and one fresh and red and bumpy, he laughs without humor. “I’m never gonna smoke again, Eds. Not after seeing this. I don’t know if I can.”

Eddie smiles, but it’s doesn’t reach his eyes. It comes close, though. “At least one good thing came out this, then.”

“Two,” Richie corrects. “Now, whenever you see these, you’ll be reminded of how strong you are. Because you are, Eds. You’re the strongest person I know, and I’m pretty fucking strong.” Eddie laughs at this. “Really, though, Eddie. You’ve dealt with so much shit in your life, and you’re still here. You’re still walking around on this fucking planet, and you’re blowing everyone away with every step. You’re going to great things one day, and when people ask you how you got there, you’re going to say ‘My crazy ass mother and crazy ass boyfriend sure did give me a push.’ You know that?”

“That, and I’m going to say, ‘I have the greatest friends in the world. There are six of them, and each and every one of them helped me in a different way. There was this one, though. He had this crazy hair and he wore the  _ worst  _ glasses as was really fucking disgusting, but he helped me. He helped me through it all, and he helped me realize what love really is.’”

  
“Fuck,” Richie says, and Eddie giggles. Richie smiles at him softly. He looks back down at Eddie’s hip and runs his fingers across the marks. A shiver runs down Eddie’s spine. “I still can’t believe he did this,” he murmurs, biting his lip. “I’m going to beat the shit out of him.”

“There’s no need,” Eddie reminds him. “I’m done with him now. We don’t have to worry about this anymore.”

Richie sighs, reaches up to rub his hand across the freckles under Eddie’s eyes. The touch is feather light, barely there, but it doesn’t fail to light Eddie’s skin on fire. “I’ll always worry about you, Eds. It’s what I do.” He says it with a soft voice and a soft smile, and Eddie can’t keep the grin away from his face. 

“I know,” he replies, reaching up and putting his hand on Richie’s. Not holding, just touching, and it’s comforting. “I’m thankful.”

  
Richie grins. He moves off of Eddie and takes his position next to him, intertwining their fingers again. They continue to lay there, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, for who knows how long. They have stupid conversations, and Richie makes stupid jokes and calls Eddie stupid nicknames, and Eddie has nowhere else he would rather be.

* * *

The rest of the losers show up eventually, Stan and Bill first, Mike ten minutes later, and Ben and Bev five minutes after that. It’s stressful for everyone, Eddie knows, but everyone besides Bill does a good job of hiding it. Bill couldn’t if he tried - his stutter gave him away every time.

“I’m suh-so happy yuh-y-you’re d-duh-doing this, Eh-Eddie,” he had said when he first showed up, gathering Eddie in a bone crushing hug. Since then, he hasn’t been talking too much. 

Richie has stayed by him the entire time, never holding his hand like earlier but always touching him. He can feel Stan and Bill looking at them, but he ignores them. Or he tries to, at least. 

He can feel Ben come up behind him, but he still jumps when he taps his shoulder. He turns around and smiles up at Ben. “Hey, Ben.”

“Hey,” Ben says softly. “You okay?”

Eddie nods. “I am. I’m excited, actually, but still a bit nervous.”

“Understandable,” Ben says. He’s smiling, still, and it’s oddly comforting. “We’ll be there, too, you know. Just a room away. If you need us, you know what to do.”

He does know. They had come up with it not ten minutes before. If Eddie was starting to feel anxious, or like he needed assistance, or anything, he was to tap his foot on the ground exactly three times, and the others would come. His stuff had already been packed into the car, and he was ready to go. The only thing left to do was deal with Jake. “I know,” he tells Ben. “Thank you, by the way. For being here, and everything. All of you - you guys are everything to me.”

Ben smiles again, and it doesn’t look forced. He looks genuinely happy, like Eddie's words had lifted his entire mood. Eddie hopes they did. 

Richie puts a hand on his shoulder as they watch Jake’s truck pull into the driveway. Eddie puts a hand atop his, turning to smile up at him. He squeezes Richie’s hand once before Richie is pulled away by the others, leaving Eddie to stand alone in the living room. He takes a seat on the couch.

Eddie’s breathing had quickened considerably by the time Jake walks through the door. He doesn’t turn left, to the staircase, where he would find the rest of the losers. Eddie is thankful for this. Instead, Jake heads straight to the living room. As soon as he makes eye contact with Eddie, he smiles. “Babe,” he says. “I was thinking hamburgers for dinner. Think you can run to the store?”

  
Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. “Actually, um,” he sighs. Jake is staring at him now, his gaze leaving daggers in Eddie’s skin. Eddie can’t tell whether he’s angry or confused - maybe both. “Can you sit? I wanted to talk.”

With a quick look around the room, Jake saunters over to Eddie and sits next to him on the couch. This close, Eddie can see the anger already forming in his eyes. “Eddie, what is this about?”

And Eddie realizes he doesn’t know how to start this conversation. Should he explain first? Should he just get it out there? Say  _ I’m leaving  _ and be done? “I think we should break up,” Eddie says, and shit. He should have done the explaining first, because Jake raises his eyebrows. He looks  _ amused _ , and Eddie feels sick. 

He laughs a little. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do, actually,” Eddie insists. He doesn’t know where the confidence came from, but Eddie looks Jake in the eyes while he talks. “The way you treat me, it isn’t right. I’m done dealing with your shit, Jake.”

Jake clenches his fists. “You don’t mean that, Eddie,” he says, his voice dark. “You don’t mean it. Now,” he reaches out and grips Eddie on the thigh. Eddie winces in pain, but he can’t pull away. The grip is too strong. “Want you to go the store, and make hamburgers for dinner. If you behave for the rest of the night, maybe your punishment won’t be as bad as it’s looking.”

“Let me go.” Eddie demands, but his voice is soft. He sounds scared, and Jake’s grip on his thigh tightens. “I’m being serious, Jake. It’s over.”

“Shut up,” Jake says. 

“It’s over, and there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s been too long.” Eddie is on the verge of tears already. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Eddie, please,” Jake whimpers. “You can’t do this to me!”

  
Eddie stares, mouth open. Jake looks actually upset about this - for a second, Eddie feels bad, but he pushes the thought away. This has to end now. “Actually, I can. And I am.”

Jake shakes his head. “You can’t. I love you, Eddie, you can’t leave me. I thought you loved me!”

  
“I do,” Eddie says, because it’s the truth. He does. “I love you, Jake. Or I did, at least. And I understand that you love me, or at least think you do, but what you did to me was wrong. It - you aren’t supposed to hurt the people you love, Jake. You’re supposed to love them for who they are, not try to constantly _change_ who they are. So that’s why we need to break up. I should have done this a long time ago, but I’m doing it now. I need you to understand, Jake. Please.”

“What am I supposed to do, huh?” Jake asks, and he sounds mad. Like, really mad, and Eddie flinches away from him. “What am I supposed to do without you?”

“Therapy, or something,” Eddie tells him. “You need it.”  
“Fuck you,” Jake says, and he slaps Eddie. The noise of it could probably be heard throughout the entire house. Eddie hopes the losers stay in place. “I need _you_! I need you to clean the house, to cook, I need you, Eddie.”

Eddie holds his cheek. “I am not you servant,” he spits. 

“I was trying to help you, you know,” Jake says, lifting his hand to slap Eddie again. “You’ll get over this. Go to the bedroom and take off your clothes - you’re in for it, tonight.”

“No,” Eddie says.

Jake raises his eyebrows. “What did you just say?” He asks, his voice dripping with venom. Eddie doesn’t respond. “What the hell did you just say to me?!”  
“I said no!” Eddie shouts, standing up. He points his finger in Jake’s face. “You can’t do this to me anymore! I don’t deserve it!”

  
Jake stands up as well, towering over Eddie. “You deserve everything I have ever done to you!” He shouts, and Eddie shakes his head. Jake is fuming. “You know what? Just fucking _leave_ , then! You’re just a little slut, anyways. I can find someone much better than you,” he growls, and when he rears his fist back, Eddie taps his foot three times on the ground. 

Richie is the first to come barreling in. “Do not fucking  _ touch  _ him!” He shouts, pushing Eddie out of the way. Eddie lands in Beverly’s arms, wrapping around him instinctively.

Jake looks over Richie’s head, his eyes landing on Eddie. “Really?” He asks, his voice laced with humor. “You brought the fucking idiots? You couldn’t take me on your own? Shows just what a fucking weakling you are. You know what, I bet they don’t even care about you. No one will _ever_ care about you as much as I do, Eddie. I always wanted what’s best for you.”  
“Yeah, ruh-right,” Bill says. Jake glares at him.

“I’ll fucking kill you, you stuttering freak,” he growls. 

Ben steps forwards. “You touch him, I’ll kick your balls in.”

Richie laughs at this. Jake looks down at Richie where he stands in front of him. Eddie is suddenly scared for what Richie is going to do, because Richie is a full three inches shorter than Jake, and a walking stick figure. He’s filled out a bit over the years, but he’s still skinny and underweight for his height. “You heard him,” he says. “You’ve hurt Eddie too much already. You touch Bill Big, and I’ll do  _ more  _ than kick your fucking balls in.”

Jake punches him. Richie topples backwars, falling to the floor. His glasses are shattered, and his nose is bleeding. Eddie screams, but Richie just laughs from his spot on the floor. “Nice fucking shot, dude!”

“You all need to leave,” Jake says, scanning the losers. “You leave Eddie here. He’s better off with me.”

“God,” Stan says, rolling his eyes. “Shut the fuck up already.”

“Stan The Man,” Richie says, standing up on wobbly feet. He waves Stan off. “It’s alright, man, I got it.”

“Rich,” Eddie says, his voice laced with concern. “Don’t.”

“You guys go ahead,” Richie says, staring at Jake. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“You guys aren’t going  _ any _ where with Eddie,” Jale says. “He stays here.”

“That, my friend, is where you’re wrong,” Beverly cuts in. “He’s not staying here with you for another second.”

Mike buts in. “He already ended it. There’s nothing you can do.”

Jake’s eyes glare down at Eddie. “You’re going to pay for this,” he tells him. 

Richie punches him. It probably wasn’t very hard, because it’s  _ Richie _ , who makes jokes about his muscles, but everyone knows he’s a literal noodle. But he looks angry when he does it, and Jake takes a few steps back in shock, before charging at Richie. He takes him down to the floor while Eddie screams, landing on top of Richie and laying it on him. One punch, two punches, three, four. Eddie is crying, clawing at Jake’s shirt, screaming at him  _ get off! Get off, you’re killing him!  _

Jake doesn’t stop until Beverly jumps on him and pushes him over. Eddie hears someone yell at that, maybe Ben, but he’s already kneeling down next to Richie. Richie is covered in blood, and when Eddie lifts his head onto his lap, his hands are covered in blood, too. He cries and cries. He pushes Richie’s hair out of his face, kisses his forehead, and begs him to stay conscious. 

  
“ ‘S just tryin’ to save mah Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie murmurs, smiling through his busted lip. 

Eddie laughs through his tears. “He could have killed you, you dumbass.”

Richie smiles again. “You’re so pretty, Eds, you know that?”

Before Eddie can respond to that, Mike is clasping his hand over Eddie’s shoulder. “You guys get out of here,” he insists. “Eddie, get Richie to the car - quick! We’re gonna grab Bev and get the hell out of here!”

Eddie looks over at Bev, who still has Jake pinned to the ground, kicking him in the balls and screaming in his face. He feels a rush of affection for her. He looks at Mike and nods. “Come on, Rich,” he says, pulling him up. Richie groans. 

“ ‘M trying,” he says, struggling to his feet. “Carry me?”

“I wish I could,” Eddie says, smiling. Richie chuckles deeply.

He struggles to get Richie outside, Richie leaning heavily on his side and taking small steps. He opens the back door of Richie’s truck, helping him into the seat. His head falls on Eddie’s shoulder when he’s seated, his body curling over. “I don’t feel so good,” he mumbles. 

“Hmm,” Eddie says, pushing him up and buckling his seat. “You probably shouldn’t have attacked him.”

“I had to,” Richie says, his face suddenly serious. He looks straight at Eddie, though his eyes are unfocused behind broken glasses. “He was threatening you! And.. and he slapped you, Eds. I had to do  _ something _ .”

Eddie hums again, looking at Richie fondly. “Thank you.” 

Richie grins. “Anything for my Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Not Eddie Spaghetti,” he reminds Richie, but he’s smiling. He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop smiling, not when he’s finally free. 

A look of sincere affection crosses Richie’s face, and he reaches forwards to touch Eddie’s cheek, but he misses and goes straight past his face. Eddie giggles. “Shit,” Richie says. “Fucker broke my glasses.” 

“You needed new ones, anyway,” he tells Richie.

“That  _ fucker _ !” A shout comes from behind him. He barely has time to turn around before a pair of arms envelop him and red hair is pushed into his face. “He was saying so many rude things about you - I should’ve done that earlier, fuck. Is Richie okay?”

Eddie just nods, and Beverly moves past him to get to Richie, who still looks a bit out of it. Mike is the second person to come up to him, wrapping his strong arms around Eddie and pulling him flush against his chest. “You did so good,” he tells Eddie. “Really. That’s was awesome.”

“I wuh-wish I could’ve gotten a puh-punch in, too,” Bill says, slapping a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “But Bev guh-got him pretty good.”

Eddie is filled with a rush of affection for the second time that day as Stan and Bill squish him in a hug. He hugs them back, fisting Stan’s shirt in his hand. Ben joins them at some point, then Mike, and Beverly at last. They stand there for some time before Richie is shouting at them that he feels left out. Stan flips him off.

* * *

Eddie stays at Bill’s place. He has a guest bedroom where Eddie sleeps, and Bill is good to him. He gives him fresh sheets and takes him out clothes shopping and fixes him meals and treats him normal. Stan is over a lot, too, and they tell Eddie they’re dating. None of the other losers know, but Eddie is happy for them. They still hold back when Eddie is around, though, no matter how much he tells them they don’t need to, so he goes over to Richie and Mike’s two times a week and watches movies with them until the late hours of the morning and sleeps on the couch while Stan and Bill have a date night. 

Things are good. Eddie is happy. The losers don’t bring it up because he’s not ready to talk about it and they respect that. Eddie is extremely grateful for his friends. 

Everytime Eddie goes to Richie and Mike’s place, he frets over Richie. His face is still bruised and his left eye is swollen and his lip is still busted, but he’s got new glasses and he’s happy, so Eddie lets him be. Instead, he sits as close to him as possible as they watch movies, holds his hand, and falls asleep on his shoulder. They don’t talk about it. Richie is gone when he wakes up, always leaving Eddie on the couch, and they don’t talk about it. 

It’s fine, though. They’re happy, and they spend as much time together as possible. 

On a bold day, when Eddie wakes up on the couch, he checks the time. It’s one in the morning. He pads through the hallway and creeks Richie’s door open, and crawls into bed with him. “Eds?” Richie had asked, his voice laced with sleep.

“Hi,” Eddie had whispered.

Richie just smiles and wrapped his arm around Eddie’s waist, pulling him closer. 

He sleeps better than he has in weeks. 

They still don’t talk about it, though. 

The losers all hang out together, constantly. Nobody treats Eddie differently. He’s incredibly thankful.

When he crawls into his bed at Bill’s house after a long day spent with his dearest friends, he thinks that he’s never been happier in his entire life. This time, he knows the happiness is there to stay. 


	17. "Deal."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys. this is actually it. this is the end. this is the first story I've ever written that I've ACTUALLY finished. I am shocked and pleased at the same time.  
> thank you guys so much for sticking around and reading this story for as long as you have. I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope this last chapter is satisfying for all of your reddie needs. I've also never really written people kissing before, so uh. let me know how that went in the comments?  
> also, thank you guys so so much for all of your kind words. sometimes I would read some of them and I would find myself grinning at the screen of my computer from how much I LOVE all of you. you're continued support means the world to me. this will not be the last fic I write, though, so I hope you guys stick around for those! they might not be as good as this, or like meaningful and all that, but hopefully people will still enjoy them.  
> okay, one last time, THANK YOU. I can't say that enough. you guys are all amazing.   
> let me know what you think :)

Eddie Kaspbrak is in love with Richie Tozier. This much he was certain of.

It’s been four months since Eddie left Jake, and over the span of time, Eddie’s feelings had only grown stronger. It’s evident that something has changed between the two of them. Not in the way they act, because they still tease and bicker and sit too close during movie nights, but something in the air. He can  _ feel  _ the way things have changed between them. It’s strong, and constant, and Eddie can’t ignore it. Not that he’s complaining, anyway. 

On a Wednesday night, he finds himself squished between Richie and Mike on their two person couch. His right leg is propped on Richie’s thigh, and his head is on Mike’s shoulder, and he’s really fucking happy. They’re watching Jurassic Park, but nobody is really paying attention. They all gave up after thirty minutes of Richie complaining about the animation and acting. 

“Fuck, Richie,” Eddie whines, punching Richie on the shoulder. He’s smiling, though, and so is Richie, and he thinks Mike is, too. “The animation isn’t going to be perfect. Do you even know how hard it is to animate shit?”

Richie raises his eyebrows. “What, and you do?”

“No, but that’s not the point!” 

“What’s the point, then, Eds?”

“I think his point is for you to shut the fuck up,” Mike says, and Eddie smiles at him. 

Richie gasps. “That hurt, Homeschool.”

“We aren't in high school anymore, Richie, that nickname doesn’t even work anymore!” 

“Whatever, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“God, I fucking hate you.”

He still climbs into bed with him later that night, though. 

Eddie is aware of everywhere Richie is touching him. The leg thrown across his own, the hand settles firmly on his waist, the chest rising and falling where Eddie’s head lay. The sofft breath fanning the top of his head. He’s aware of all of it, and his skin is on fire, but he loves it. When he wakes up, Eddie laying on his back, and Richie’s thrown half of his body on top of him. He loves it, though. He loves  _ Richie.  _

God, it’s so fucking exhilarating to be able to think that freely now. He could say it in his on repeat for hours and never get bored of it, just an endless string of  _ I love Richie I love Richie I love Richie I love Richie  _ and  _ I think Richie loves me.  _ He  _ wants  _ Richie, in every sense of the word, and there’s nothing wrong with that anymore. There’s no boyfriend between them, and the fact sits there, and they both look at it from opposite sides of a thin, thin wall that neither of them have the bravery to tear down. 

Eddie thinks he might, though. Soon. 

He gets word from Mike that Mike will be out of town for the weekend to go visit his cousins. Eddie sees his chance and he fucking takes it. 

He gets a pep talk from Stan and Bill (who have taken him in like a child, but that’s not important right now), buys a bouquet of flowers, and knocks twice on the door to Richie’s apartment. 

“Coming!” He hears the loud shout, and he winces. Fuck, Eddie doesn’t have a solid plan - how is supposed to go about this? Just fucking wing it? Kiss him and say ‘I hope you’re okay with that, Rich, cause I’ve been wanting to do it for months now.’ Eddie’s not an expert at this sort of thing, but he doesn’t really like the sound of that. So he stands in his own little bubble of panic while Richie’s footsteps are heard throughout the apartment. As the door is swinging open, he says, “This better be the Eddie Spaghetti I ordered, because if it’s not, I swear - oh.”

Eddie shoves the flowers in front of his face, hoping to hide the redness that’s taken over. “I got these for you,” he squeaks out. Richie takes the flowers, his fingers brushing against Eddie’s for .2 seconds, and Eddie looks at the floor instead of at Richie.  

“Thanks, Eds,” Richie says after a moment, his voice sounding soft. Eddie kind of wants to die. “No offense, but, uh.. What’s the occasion?”

With a shrug and a quick glance up at Richie through dark eyelashes, he sighs. “I wanted to thank you,” he says, training his gaze on Richie’s socks - one with monkeys and the other with bananas. He wonders if Richie bought them like that, but they’re two completely different colors, so he doubts it. Knowing Richie, he probably bought two pairs of socks  _ just  _ so he could wear them together like that. Fuck, Eddie is whipped. “For everything you’ve done to help me recently. I never properly thanked you, and - and you deserve that. You really helped me, you know. I don’t think you even realized you were doing it sometimes, but you did. You do. I just - thank you.”

When he looks up to finally gage Richie’s reaction, he’s grinning at the flowers in his hand. He looks at Eddie, and his eyes are so fucking  _ bright  _ Eddie could die right there and he wouldn’t mind, because the last thing he saw was the utter happiness in Richie’s eyes in that moment. “Eds,” he says, reaching forward and grabbing on to the sleeve of Eddie’s button up shirt. He tugs him forwards, smiling down at him. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Eddie tells him truthfully, smiling up at Richie. “I wanted to thank you.”

“Fuck,” Richie says, running his free hand through his hair. “I love you, Eddie. You know that?”  
Eddie thinks maybe Richie is talking about a different kind of love, but he can’t be sure, so he says instead: “I love you, too.”

“No, I mean like,” Richie grabs Eddie’s shirt again. He’s frowning at Eddie, his eyes full of desperation. “I  _ love  _ you, Eddie.”

Eddie is frozen to the spot. Sure, he had known that at some point, this was going to happen tonight. He had prepared as much as he could have, but now he’s here. Richie is standing in front of him, inches away, telling Eddie he  _ loves  _ him, and Eddie doesn’t know what the fuck to say. 

Richie is biting his lip now, letting go of Eddie and backing up a few steps. “That might ruin our whole relationship, fuck. But I needed to get it out. I’ve loved you for a long time, Eddie, and I never knew what to do about it, and now I’m telling you like  _ this _ -” He runs a hand through his hair. “I was going to do it, you know. Was gonna make this whole ordeal out of it and ask you on a date with flowers and all this other shit. That way if you rejected I could just play it off as a joke, you know? I wasn’t supposed to tell you like this. Now I’ve probably ruined our whole friendship, and you probably hate me, and - mphh!”

  
Eddie grabs the collar of Richie’s tee, tugs him down, and kisses him. The kiss isn’t perfect, just a press of lips together, neither of them really moving out of shock, but it’s lights Eddie’s skin of fire. 

It seems like forever, but eventually Richie’s hands find their way to Eddie’s cheeks, pulling him closer. His lips begin to move feverishly against Eddie’s, pulling away only to reconnect, sliding together in perfect symphony that makes Eddie’s heart beat against his ribcage. Richie’s lips are chapped, but they’re  _ soft,  _ and Eddie decides that he never wants to kiss anyone that isn’t Richie ever again. 

Richie pulls away from him, breathing heavily, a dopey grin on his face. Eddie doesn’t get a good look, though, because he’s trailing kisses down Richie’s neck. Now that he’s had a taste, he wants to touch Richie. He wants to kiss his collarbones, his chest, his legs, everything. He wants to kiss Richie everywhere. But Richie is pushing at Eddie’s shoulders while he kisses the column of his throat. 

“Fuck, Eds,” he groans, his hands still on Eddie’s shoulders. “Can we -  _ ah, fuck  _ \- can we talk about this?”

Eddie removes his mouth from Richie’s skin, and looks up at Richie through his eyelashes. Richie’s eyes are dark, his pupils blown, and his lips are kissed red and swollen and  _ fuck _ , Eddie’s in love. “Don’t wanna  _ talk _ ,” Eddie says, pulling Richie’s shirt down to reveal his collar bones. He kisses it softly, lifts his eyes back up to Richie. “Just wanna kiss you, Rich.”

Richie closes his eyes and throws his head back. “Fuck, I wanna kiss you, too, Eds. Have for a  _ really  _ fucking long time, and believe me, I feel like I’m dreaming right now -” Eddie kisses his jaw, whispers ‘not dreaming’ into it “- but we need to talk about this.”

Eddie sinks down to his flat feet, wiping the spit away from his mouth.  _ Richie’s spit _ , his mind provides. He should be grossed out by this, but he’s not. What’s  _ happened  _ to him? “Okay,” he says, and he smiles at Richie. “Let’s talk.”

Richie nods, his cheeks a light color of pink, and he leads Eddie over to the couch. They sit down, look at each other for a second, and they both laugh. Eddie grasps at Richie, leaning onto him for support, because he’s just _ laughing _ . He doesn’t know what it’s about - maybe because they’ve been idiots for too long, or because they’ve finally done something, but he’s so fucking happy. “Fuck,” Richie says for the millionth time that night. He’s wiping tears from under his eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You’re the one who wanted to talk!” Eddie accuses, still giggling. 

Richie smiles at him fondly.  _ Me _ , Eddie thinks.  _ That look is for me.  _ “I know, I know,” Richie sighs. He leans back against the cushions of the couch. “So, how long have you wanted to put that delicious mouth on my delicious mouth?”

Eddie glares. “I’ll never do it again if that’s how you’re going to phrase it.”

“That is  _ quite  _ the empty threat, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie says, grinning full on. “We both know well enough you wouldn’t be able to resist the Tozier Charm.” Eddie punches him on the arm. “No, but really,” Richie says, still rubbing his arm where Eddie hit it. “How long have you been wanting to do that?”

“The day before I broke up with Jake,” Eddie answers easily. “Bev and Ben gave me that talk about love, and I realized everything they were saying, it all explained exactly how I felt about you.” Eddie smiles sheepishly at him. He can’t imagine how red his cheeks are by this point. “I went straight to Stan and Bill afterwards and told them, because I was freaking out.”

“Hmm,” Richie grins at him and pinches his cheeks. “I’m glad it took you a full lecture by Red and Haystack to realize you wanted a taste of this.” He wiggles his eyebrows and gestures at his body. 

He blushes hard. “Shut up!” He says, flustered. “What about you, then? When did you know?”

  
Richie grins again, leaning back and propping his legs up. “Well, Eds, I think I’ve _liked_ you since I was about, let’s say, thirteen? And I’ve loved you since we were fifteen. I remember looking at you, throwing that fucking _fanny pack_ of yours into the creek, and I just thought, _fuck, I love this boy._ ”

Eddie thinks he’s never blushed this much in his entire life. He decides to change the direction of the conversation for his own sanity. “I didn’t even know you liked boys like that until like, two minutes ago.”

“Brave move of yours to kiss me like that then, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie wiggles his eyebrows again. Eddie glares at him. “Yeah, I’m bisexual. There, I said it. The only other people who know are Bev and my ex girlfriend.” He looks at Eddie meaningfully. “I mean, I’ve found other boys attractive before, too. I think I just have this thing for small, hypochondriac, brown headed boys who hate being called adorable and affectionate nicknames.”

“You’re nicknames are neither adorable  _ or  _ affectionate, Trashmouth,” he growls. He’s silent for a moment, thinking. He grabs Richie’s hand. “You know you could have told us, right? No one would have thought differently of you.”

Richie shrugs. “Yeah, I know. I just thought if everyone knew I was into guys, then it would become even more painfully obvious that I’m whipped for you.”

“Well, I’m glad I know now,” Eddie says with a real, genuine smile. Richie squeezes his hand. “I do want to know about this date you were going to take me on, though.”

Richie grins widely. “I was going to take you to this fancy dinner, and spoil the crap out of you. Compliment you constantly, pay for your food, hold doors open, all that shit. Then I was going to take you to a drive-in movie, hold your hand, cuddle some, you know. The usual. It would be really nice and romantic. I was even planning on cleaning my truck!” Eddie fakes a gasp, and Richie laughs. “Then, when I took you home, I would walk you up Bill’s driveway. I would tell you how much I enjoyed the night, and that I hoped we could do it again. I would kiss you on the cheek, open the front door for you, and then pray you wanted a second date, too.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “A kiss on the  _ cheek _ ? Really?”

“I didn’t know if you would be ready for the full on thing,” he admits shyly, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Well, I am. Now tell me how you would say goodnight knowing that.”

Richie grins dopily again. “I would hold your cheeks gently, lean in slowly, tell you how beautiful you were. I would close my eyes slowly, wanting to look at you as long as possible. Then I would give you the sweetest of kisses, Eds. It would be so gentle and loving, because that’s what you deserve.”

Eddie stares at him. He thinks his chest will explode form how happy he was feeling. “Show me,” he whispers, and Richie looks at him with wide eyes, but he doesn’t reject him. 

He does exactly what he said he would. His ;large hands find Eddie’s cheeks, resting on them softly. His breath fans over Eddie’s cheek. “You, Eddie Kaspbrak, are the most beautiful human being I have ever laid my eyes on,” he says, smiling softly. Eddie wants to jump him, he’s dying to have those lips on his again, but he holds back. He’s enjoying this, too. He loves this. Richie closes his eyes, so Eddie does the same. It feels incredibly intimate like this, the world filled with darkness, and everywhere Richie touches him Eddie is aware of. When Richie finally kisses him, it’s nothing like the one earlier. It’s soft, a barely there touch at first, then his lips are covering Eddie’s. He puckers them slightly, moves them gently, slowly, languishly. Eddie feels like he’s in heaven. He had no idea Richie could be so gentle, but he loves it. He loves this side of Richie, when he’s soft and honest and not afraid to show himself to the world. 

When he pulls away, Richie rests his hands on Eddie’s hips. He lays their foreheads together. “I love you so much,” Richie whispers. 

“I love you, too,” Eddie says back, pecking Richie’s lips once again. He can _ do  _ that now. “I’ll love you even more if you take me on that date, though. That sounds fucking awesome.”

Richie grins, pushing a strand of Eddie’s hair behind his ear. “Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was okay? I was on a really long car ride and I got this idea, but I was pretty tired when I started writing, so I don't know. let me know what you think? :)


End file.
